


Tender Blessings

by knottedenergy



Category: Hunger Games - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knottedenergy/pseuds/knottedenergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss doesn't want kids...Peeta does...then they find out they already have one (courtesy of the Capitol). Read more. You'll like it. (unique plot with exciting & emotional twists; characters are kept in character; occurs a few years afer MJ/the war; alternating POVs of Peeta, Katniss,Haymitch, others; slightly AU but realistic in the HG world).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Revelation

Peeta:

"I believe you have a daughter," Beetee says, "a daughter you don't know exists."

"That's absurd!" Katniss says. "Don't you think we'd know it if we had a child?"

Then Katniss' brow starts to furrow. "At least I would know," she adds with a hint of suspicion. I ignore it.

"Let's not jump to any conclusions before I've had a chance to explain, Katniss," Beetee encourages.

Beetee lays a picture of a young child on the desk in front of us. I lean in to get a better look. The girl has dark hair and blue eyes. Her complexion is medium beige, and her build is slight. She looks like she could be from District 12.

"Her name is Gloria. Her mother was an Avox woman who recently died. That's when officials realized her birth records contained irregularities. So an investigation began. Some of the information from the hospital where Gloria was born lead back to the same prison where you were held during the war, Peeta. Eventually we traced that information directly back to your file."

Katniss pulls my arm and raises her voice an octive, "What are you not telling me?" She asks as I turn to face her.

"Nothing, Katniss. I've told you everything I know about when I was in prison," I say sincerely.

"Katniss," Beetee begins in his most scientific voice, "the cells necessary for Peeta to be the biological father of this child could have been obtained without his knowledge or consent. Remember, he was drugged much of the time. These are biological reactions and processes, and the Capitol could have applied their extensive technology to the natural order of things as well. Lest you think that Peeta had anything to do with the actual conception…let me tell you…this child is definitely not related to the Avox woman who carried her. Katniss, that means that she was conceived artificially. Peeta probably never met the woman who carried Gloria. Based on Gloria's recorded birthdate, Peeta had already been rescued by the time she was conceived."

Katniss looks down and squeezes my arm regretfully.

"Pregnancies in which the surrogate mother is not related to the child in any way are notoriously fragile," Beetee continues. "If the Capitol wanted to produce a child with which to manipulate Peeta only then the Avox who functioned as the surrogate could have been the biological mother. That would have been safer and easier. The Capitol didn't want that apparently; they wanted something else. I think they wanted a child whose mother was Katniss Everdeen and whose father was Peeta Mellark. Nothing else would do. That's why they took a chance on a fragile pregnancy. The records indicate that the pregnancy progressed remarkably well though, and Gloria was born healthy."

Beetee stops.

Katniss looks up.

"How did they get…what they needed from me to produce a child?" she asks.

"I suspect they collected the cells of reproduction when you were sedated after your first Hunger Games." He said, "The cells could have been made to mature faster while you were sedated and then collected through abdominal surgery. The Capitol could easily have hidden the scars with the skin treatments they used to hide your other scars. You would have assumed any soreness you felt was from your weeks of struggles in the arena."

Katniss puts her hand over the side of her belly and looks down. A certain vulnerable look creeps across her face. She feels violated, and I don't blame her. I do too.

After a minute or so I ask "So you think this child is mine and Katniss' child?"

"Yes, I absolutely do. We won't know for sure until we do genetic tests though."

"If one or both of us is a biological parent, what then?" I ask.

"Then you will have some big decisions to make," Beetee answers solemnly.

/

Katniss:

She's Peeta's. There's no doubt about that. I got a good look at her eyes, and she has those crystal blue eyes that all the Mellark boys had as kids. Peeta knows he's her father, and that's why he's subtly smiling. He's simply trying not to act proud of her for my sake.

Peeta talks about having children often, but I've refused to consider it. The subject remains a sore point between us, and we avoid discussing it. When Peeta sees a child, his whole demeanor shows how much he longs to have one of his own. He looks over at me hopefully. He points out how cute the child is. Then he brings up pleasant memories of when I was the child's age or when he was the child's age. It's always clear that he's trying to convince me…to have one of our own. He hasn't though.

What will this do to us? How will our fragile little world change from having this child's situation forced upon it?

Oh, Katniss. I say to myself. You are being so selfish. What about her. She's your husband's child! You must care…somewhere deep down you must care.

Peeta won't abandon his daughter. That much is certain. No matter how much he respects my right to have my own personal feelings on the subject of bearing children, he won't abandon the only family he has left in the world.

He's watching the child through the one way glass window. At first she's rocking a doll in her arms. Then she begins running around the room. Peeta turns to me, his eyes glistening with delight. When he sees my scowl, he recoils.

"She really is lovely, Katniss. Have you watched her?" He asks.

"No, and I won't watch her until I know if she's yours."

"Ours," he corrects.

"We'll see," I answer.

He turns his head curiously and stares at me.

What if she's his child but not mine? I ask myself. What would that mean for us?

I acquiesce and look through the window with him. Peeta puts his hand on my shoulder. The child looks like me too. She could be mine. Her dark wavy hair flows behind her as she runs, and I imagine what it would look like braided.

Beetee comes into the small room again. He's carrying a clipboard. He shows us a computerized model of the child's DNA that compares it to mine and Peeta's. The maze of colors and lines makes me feel like my eyes are going to cross.

"Beetee, please just get to the point. Are we her parents?" I ask impatiently.

"Yes. Peeta is her father, and you are her mother."

I sink down in the chair next to me. The soft leather surrounds me in a comforting way.

Peeta resumes his position by the one way window.

"Wow…I can't believe this is happening," he says softly.

"Me neither," I add.

[AN: This is just a short introduction – more to come later. This story will not interfere with my currently underway story "Dead by Morning"]


	2. Meeting Gloria

Peeta:

Katniss sits with her arms crossed in the leather chair where she landed after hearing she was a mother. She hasn't moved and has barely breathed since. Poor Katniss.

"You have several options, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark," the social worker begins. "We can try to place Gloria for adoption through a closed adoption process during which it will never be revealed that you are her parents. I will warn you though, if you choose this option it may be difficult to find a family for her. There are so many orphaned children because of the war."

I wince.

"We can try to find a family to adopt Gloria through an open adoption process. There will probably be much more interest in her if the potential adoptive parents know she's your daughter."

My stomach lurches. That almost sounds like advertising her "free victors' child available for adoption. Instantly increase your social status by raising the child of Panem's 'star-crossed lovers' - act now while supplies last."

The social worker continues, "You'd have the option of negotiating to see and communicate with her if the adoption was an open one. Any contact would be at the discretion of the adoptive parents though."

I thought about being able to see my daughter only after being given permission by someone else. What if I wanted to send a birthday card? Would I need permission for that? Probably.

"If you have someone in your family willing to consider adopting Gloria then that would be a third option," the social worker adds.

"We have no family," Katniss blurts out.

"Well, there is…" I start to say as I lean forward towards the social worker.

"We don't have any family," Katniss repeats more urgently than the first time.

I stare at her for a moment. Her eyes are fierce and angry, but it doesn't look like all the anger is directed at me.

Reaching over to her, I grasp Katniss' hand. At first she resists, but then she intertwines her fingers with mine.

I feel her rub her thumb along one of the burn scars.

"The fourth option is to take her home with you and raise her yourself," the social worker finishes.

A warmth settles in my chest. It could be there because my wife took my hand when I offered it, but I think this warmth originates from a different source. It's coming from the thought of having our daughter with us in district 12, a permanent and ever-present part of our lives.

"How do we find out more about the families who might be interested in this child?" Katniss asks quietly.

The warm feeling falls to my feet as my heart sinks. Nothing has changed.

"Mrs. Mellark, I can certainly give you information about potential adoptive parents for a three year old girl. I would encourage you to think this decision through first though. Perhaps the two of you would like to talk about it over dinner and have a good night's sleep. I understand that you are staying at the Presidential Hotel. They have a marvelous restaurant."

Some things about the Capitol don't change either.

"When can I meet, Gloria?" I ask, feeling a sudden sense of entitlement.

Katniss loosens her hand from mine.

"Umm, Mr. Mellark, I don't know if that's such a good idea right now. Forgive me for speculating, but you and your wife seem to be having very different reactions to the surprising news you've received. As an expert on family relationships, I have to recommend that you take some time…"

"Can you stop me from seeing her?" I interrupt.

"Well…no."

"Then I'd like to meet my daughter."

Waiting to meet Gloria unnerves me, especially with Katniss shooting daggers at me with her terrified gray eyes. I ask Katniss repeatedly to go in to see Gloria with me, but she flatly refuses.

"We'll talk later," she snaps.

I wonder if I've made the right decision to demand to see Gloria over the social worker's advice and Katniss' wishes. When I see her though, my doubts evaporate.

The woman supervising Gloria introduces me as "Peeta" and explains that I'm a new friend.

But I'm really her father, I repeat in my head a few times. I find it difficult to apply the word to myself.

Gloria looks up from her doll. Close up her eyes look like my brother Graham's eyes which almost reduces me to tears before I can go further. Avoiding scaring my daughter is more important than remembering Graham though, and I manage to push down my grief.

Kneeling down to be on her level I ask Gloria, "what's your doll's name?"

"Mine." she answers and pulls the doll as far from me as she can without dropping it.

"I won't take it away, Gloria. I just wondered what her name was."

"The doll isn't really hers. It belongs here at the playroom," the woman supervising Gloria explains before adding, "But you can play with it for as long as you are here, Gloria."

"Mine," Gloria repeats with a very Katniss like scowl. I try hard to stop snickering, but I'm not entirely successful.

The woman stares at me with a bewildered expression.

"I'm sorry. She just looks like someone when she scowls like that," I explain.

"She scowls plenty," the woman scoffs.

"That sounds about right." I smiled.

Gloria stares at me, her expression softening just a little.

"Will you show me how you rock your doll?" I ask her.

She hugs the doll in a possessive but loving way, kind of like the way I'd like to hug her right now. Then she rocks the doll back and forth.

It is premature, but I can't help myself.

I reach out and touch her arm. Gloria's eyes widen and she lets out a blood curdling scream as she runs behind the woman who's been watching her.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

When Gloria peeks out from behind the woman I notice she's focusing on the hand that reached for her. It dawns on me that like most kids, Gloria fears me because of my scars. When I meet new people I usually keep my hands in my pockets, but I'd been so distracted by wanting to hold my daughter that I'd forgotten about hiding my scars. Maybe once she got to know me Gloria would hardly notice the scars anymore.

"Oh, this?" I point to my hand with the other one, "don't worry about this. It doesn't hurt."

She looks only slightly relieved.

I pat the backs of my hands, alternating between them. "See," I say to reassure Gloria. "No big deal."

"She's a little shy, Mr. Mellark. Plus, she doesn't talk much since her mother couldn't teach her how," the woman explains.

"I think she's great. No need to explain. I don't want to scare her though. I'll give her some time. Could you do me a favor?" I ask hoping I'm not overstepping my bounds. "I want her to have a doll like that of her own, but I don't know anything about dolls. Would you mind getting one for her."

I pull out an amount of money that I expect will buy about 5 dolls.

"You can choose a few other toys for her if you want. Then keep a 20 for yourself. Is that all right?"

"Yes. Yes, Sir. That's more than all right."

"Good, I want to thank you for doing this for me. I would normally never ask anyone to do something like this, but I have a feeling I'm going to have a very busy night."


	3. The Reaction

Katniss:

Peeta met our daughter. I wanted to go too, but I couldn't. I won't be able to do what I know is best for her if I meet her.

I press my back against the bathroom wall, wrap my arms around my middle, and sink down to the yellow tile floor.

Then I rock back and forth with my arms across the womb that never sheltered her, our child, who's both part me and part him. 

I hate the Capitol, which seems silly when it doesn't even exist anymore.

…But I've learned today that before I could even be with my husband, the Capitol made our baby through their technological advances.

Beetee is right that these are biological reactions and processes, but they are also human ones…intimate ones…and without our even knowing what happened, the Capitol took possession of some of our most private resources.

I don't want to think about the things they must have done to Peeta, nor do I want to think about them cutting me open to take out what they wanted from me. Won't I think of those abuses every time I look at the child that resulted from them?

Our daughter is not to blame though, and she shouldn't be held accountable.

How could they do this? I ask myself. How could they ever believe they had the right to do this?

Then again, they tried to kill me…and him…many times and through a myriad of means. They thought they had a right to use us as entertainment in any way they saw fit. Why wouldn't they assume they had the right to create a life from our bodies and then force another woman to carry that life?

What were they planning to do with our daughter? Nothing good, that's for sure.

The most benign purpose I can imagine is selling or giving her to a person who just wanted to raise District 12's star crossed lovers' baby. That's not really benign at all though. The worst purpose I can imagine is that since they couldn't torture Peeta and display the results in front of me anymore, they planned to paralyze me by torturing our child instead. She'd have been another person damaged and destroyed…because of me.

The tears come, and once they come I can't stop them.

This is why I don't want children! I can't keep them safe!

"Katniss?" Peeta calls from outside the door. "Katniss, Honey. Come out of there, okay?"

Peeta tries to turn the locked doorknob.

"Please, Katniss. You're scaring me."

Peeta being afraid for me is something I can't tolerate, and I know he's sincere.

I dry my eyes before standing up and opening the door.

Peeta envelops me in his strong arms and holds me like he'll never let go.

Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I stop fighting the tears.

He smoothes my hair with his hand.

Even though he's a man of words, Peeta says nothing. There are no words that can comfort me anyway.

Then I wonder if there could be another reason he's quiet. Even though he wants a child, what the Capitol has done is certainly not how he thought he'd have one. He met our daughter today. It's so much to take in.

"How are you doing, Peeta?" I say as I pull myself back slightly so I can see him.

He leans the top of his forehead against mine, casting his eyes down. His long blonde eyelashes flutter together and then apart. I can feel his hands start to tremble against my lower back. He's been holding his feelings in for me. Now that I've asked, he probably can't hold them inside anymore.

"I wonder…if they could do this without me knowing then what else did they do to me?"

All at once our roles are reversed. I'm whispering soothing words to him, snuggling against his chest, and telling him how much I love him…anything to reassure him.

"I don't like to think about how and why," Peeta continues in a whisper, "because, it makes me feel sick. Katniss, I'm not sorry we have Gloria. I'm just sorry that she came to us this way."

/

Haymitch:

Beetee explained that Peeta asked him to call me, and then he told me the truth about why he and the president asked Peeta and Katniss to come to the Capitol. I knew it had to be important for Paylor to petition the courts to allow Katniss to travel outside of 12, but I was completely shocked when I heard about the child.

I certainly believed the Capitol was capable of such things. Their twisted scientific endeavors created mutts and pods. They killed even the most vulnerable without reservation. The Capitol abused and manipulated victors constantly. When I thought about Peeta and Katniss being used like this though, the news penetrated even my cynical veneer. I wanted to protect them somehow, but it was too late for that.

"It's the girl you are going to have to worry about most, Beetee," I tell him.

"I think you are wrong about that, Haymitch. Gloria is very resilient."

"No, I mean Katniss. She's never wanted to be a mother. She afraid of being a mother."

"Really? Katniss? I can't imagine her being afraid of something like that," he answers.

"Well she is. How'd she handle it when you told them?"

"I don't know. I'm not good at these things. She seemed upset, I guess. I know Peeta met the child alone."

"Katniss didn't go with him?"

"No, she just watched them from outside the room."

I sigh, "Not good. Not good at all. Those two don't face anything apart, not anymore. I'll be there on the next train."

/

Katniss:

"I can't, Peeta! I can't be her mother!"

"But you already are her mother."

"You know what I mean. I can't mother her."

I pace the floor as I continue to make my arguments for why we should not take our daughter home with us.

"I'll end up a worthless heap rocking in the rocking chair by the fire again. She'll grow up hating me because I neglect her…she'll…she'll." I start to break down again. Peeta wants to take her home so much, and I feel so guilty for my inability to give him something he desperately wants.

"I won't let that happen. We have Dr. Aurelius too. We will talk to him if you start to act that way again. I believe in you, Katniss. I know you can be a great mother. You have to believe in yourself. That's something I can't do for you."

"Believe in myself?" I ask angrily as I stop to give him a furious glare. "You think that's all it takes to be a good mother? You don't know anything about what it's like to grow up with a mother who ignores you! Who 'forgets' whether you've eaten, slept, or been to school…who forgets whether she's eaten or slept."

"I don't think you want to start comparing our mothers Katniss…" he says softly.

My heart skips a few beats, and I wonder if it can right itself again.

"Oh, Peeta. I didn't mean it like that."

I sit down beside him, but he turns away.

"If she's with us we can protect her," He says. "We can give her what she needs, Katniss. Don't you see that? And I want to raise our daughter together. Giving her away to someone else who would love her and take good care of her might be a beautiful act of kindness to Gloria under different circumstances. These are not those circumstances."

/

Peeta:

The woman did as I asked, and Gloria has her own doll today. It looks like the other one except that it has brown wavy hair like Gloria's, which makes me smile. The woman also bought a small dollhouse with a few pieces of furniture and several small dolls. There are a few other toys, but the woman says those are Gloria's favorites.

"I told her they were from you, Mr. Mallerk," she says.

"Where does Gloria live?" I ask the woman.

"The orphans' home where I work."

"What's it like there?"

She shrugs. "We have too many children, but we try."

"Does Gloria seem happy?"

"The noise seems to bother her. We find her hiding under her bed sometimes. We think she wants to be alone and maybe that's because she doesn't like the noise."

I imagine Gloria hiding like that. I wish Katniss and I could take her with us today. I'm not sure I will ever convince Katniss though, and I don't even want to think about choosing between my daughter and my wife.

Today I notice more about Gloria.

Her dress is tattered but looks comfortable. Her shoes don't fit. I know what that feels like. Her hair is full of knots.

"Gloria, Peeta is here to see you again," the woman from the orphan's home says.

Gloria looks up from the dollhouse and smiles a little.

"Mommy," she says and holds up the doll wearing women's clothes that goes with the dollhouse.

"Yes, that's the mommy," I say.

"You like the house, don't you?"

She nods.

"Good. I'm glad. Who is this?"

I point to the child doll that goes with the house.

Gloria points to herself.

"You?" I ask in a purposely surprised sounding voice.

She nods.

"Sure, that can be you," I add.

"I have a house that looks a little like your toy house. I live there with my wife."

Gloria crams all the dolls in one room of the house and then shuts it up. She smiles at her work.

Today we are closer together; she's only a couple of feet away while she's playing.

I've kept my hands in my jacket pocket s just to be safe.

Gloria leans over, and with a glint of curiosity in her eyes she pats my arm.

"Brave girl," I say. "Yesterday you were afraid of me."

She pats my arm again and pulls on my sleeve.

So I reach my hand out and pull her into the lightest of hugs. She tolerates it only for a moment even though I think it's what she wanted. Then she jumps up, grabs her doll, and runs around the room giggling.


	4. Mentor

Katniss:

The social worker suggested a temporary visitation order for Gloria because Peeta likes to spend time with her, more time than the staff at the orphans' home can spare. If he has a visitation order, Peeta can see our daughter without anyone from the orphans' home being present and even take her on outings. Peeta tells me none of this obligates us to take her home and raise her ourselves, but I know the more attached to our daughter he becomes the harder it will be to give her up if that's what we decide to do.

I wonder if it is fair to Gloria for Peeta to be spending so much time with her, but he isn't worried.

"Being a part of Gloria's life is something I want, Katniss. Getting to know her won't be bad for her as long as I don't disappear," he told me yesterday.

Clearly Peeta does not want a closed adoption, but we haven't ruled out any options yet.

I can see through the hotel room window that it's a dreary day outside, and I immediately plan to stay in. Peeta is downstairs getting breakfast and has left his computerized book reader on the coffee table. Curiosity gets the better of me. I touch the screen and flip back to the title of the book he's been reading this morning.

"The Complete Guide to Caring for Your Preschooler" it says.

I sigh.

Touching the screen again, I survey the list of recently read books.

"New Beginnings: A Practical Approach to Helping Post-war Orphans Adjust to New Homes" and "Speak Up: Improving Your Child's Verbal Skills for Life" were among the titles along with his usual repertoire of fiction and history books.

I place the device on the sofa leaving it open to the list of books. Maybe he'll notice I've seen his choices of reading material. Maybe he'll explain. I guess I don't really need an explanation though.

I hear the door swing open. Peeta's awkwardly carrying several paper bags and two cups while trying to kick the door closed with his foot. I don't help him. Amazingly, he doesn't drop anything.

"They didn't have cheesebuns or anything like cheesebuns so I got you a muffin. I got tea too. They had…"

As he places one of the bags on the coffee table Peeta notices that his book reader is in a new location and stops mid-sentence.

"Anyway, here's your tea," he says sheepishly as he hands me a cup. "I already put in the sugar."

"Thank you," I say with an edge of sarcasm.

Peeta's blonde hair is falling in his eyes making him look very young and innocent. He sits down and peers down into his teacup instead of looking at me.

"So…you were reading?" He asks quietly.

I'm surprised by his directness of his question.

"Not really. I just noticed your list of books. They don't seem like books that would interest someone who isn't planning to take a certain 3 year old girl home to District 12"

He jerks his head up to stare at me, and I think the expression I see on his face is shock.

"I think I'm going to…uh…go back downstairs to eat in the café," he says as he starts to stand.

"Why? Are you afraid to talk about how you really feel, Peeta?"

"You know how I really feel already. There's no need to go over it again."

"Why are you lying to me?" I ask him.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Lying to you? I'm not lying to you."

"You are going to do whatever you want no matter what I want, aren't you?"

My heart's pounding, and I know I should stop talking. I can't though. The pressure of opposing him has been building for days, and I can't take it anymore.

"The social worker says you'd have to give up your rights to Gloria for her to be adopted," I persist, "and you are never going to do that. Am I right?"

Peeta takes the paper bag from the coffee table and painstakingly lays out both my breakfast and his in silence.

Then he says, "sit down, Katniss. You need to eat."

"You haven't answered my question."

"It's not a question I can answer right now. I don't know. Please, just sit down and eat."

I do sit down, but muffins and tea won't fill the kind of emptiness inside me today. That gnawing feeling of uncertainty is back. Even Peeta, whose confidence I depend on so much, doesn't know what is going to happen. I sip my tea as he glances back and forth from me to his breakfast several times. I can almost see him emotionally withdrawing from me out of self-protection.

What kind of person does this to someone like Peeta Mellark? I do.

/

Haymitch:

"Hey Sweetheart," I say as I pat her shoulder. I give the hotel room a quick scan. "Nice place. Has it got a minibar?"

"Not sure, but if it does it wouldn't be a bad idea to locate it now. I might have to join you," she says.

"Aw, Sweetheart, I doubt that."

Katniss walks around the living room of the hotel suite nervously and then stops to look out the window while I settle down on the sofa with a bottle of liquor I brought with me.

"So, where's Peeta?" I ask since he hasn't come to greet me.

She gestures towards the window.

"Getting a temporary visitation order so he can see his daughter whenever he wants," she explains with unmistakable contempt.

I take a swig of the liquor and put my feet up on the coffee table. This is going to be a rough afternoon.

"His daughter?" I ask, "I thought she was yours too."

"Our daughter then," She corrects reluctantly.

"And why aren't you with Peeta? I hope it's not on account of me. I could have entertained myself for a few more hours."

"I don't need to be at the hearing unless I want to be part of the visitation order, and I don't. Besides, I can see our daughter when she's with him if I want. I'd only need the order to see her without him."

"And you don't think you need to be at the hearing to…I don't know…be supportive?" I ask as gently as possible while still getting my point across.

"I don't think he needs that. Peeta seems to know what he wants and how to get it."

I find myself puckering my lips and then pressing them together. Katniss turns away from the window to look at me, and I snap into the most neutral façade I can muster.

"Well this is a fine mess the Capitol has left you two in, isn't it?" I admit.

Suddenly her face scrunches into an expression of pure grief. Before I can even react she's crossed the room and thrown her arms around me, nearly knocking the liquor bottle out of my hand.

"We were so happy, Haymitch. Now I don't know what's going to happen to us. I don't want to be a mother. Peeta will never be able to let her go. I want to love her, but when I think about her I just feel…used…exploited...and broken." She sobs and I can feel her tears start to soak through my shirt. Then after a minute or so Katniss adds, only slightly more calmly, "…and her name is Gloria. I'd never give my daughter a Capitol name. I can barely say it without getting nauseous. I don't say it, actually. Because I hate it."

Damn. This is really, really not good, I think.

I lean forward, taking her with me, so I can sit the liquor bottle on the table. I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. That's not usually what you tell somebody when they have a child come into their lives, but in your case I think it's appropriate right now."

Katniss claws at my shoulder a little and pulls her feet up on the sofa to meet the rest of her. I start to wonder what she was like as a little child. Maybe like this.

"I do know one thing for sure," I say gently. "You and Peeta have overcome so much that I can't imagine that this would break you. You will overcome this too."

"I don't know Haymitch. He loves her already. Maybe he loves her more than he loves me."

"It's not a contest, Sweetheart. He can love you both."

Peeta:

When I walk into the hotel room I see Haymich, not Katniss.

"You made it," I say happily, "how was your trip?" Haymitch doesn't look happy at all, but I get the impression it has nothing to do with his train ride.

He's tapping his liquor bottle with his thumb while lounging on the sofa.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask tentatively.

"Cried herself to sleep. I laid her down in the bed."

I peek into the bedroom and see Katniss under the blankets snoring softly.

When I turn around Haymtich is glaring at me while he readjusts the pillow behind his neck. Then he leans back to test the quality of his work.

"You're going to have to slow down, Kid," he says. "Your wife can't handle this."

"It'd probably be better not to call me a 'kid' and refer to Katniss as my wife in the same sentence."

"Nice." He says, "Got any more like that? You can stall all night if that's what you want to do with our time."

"I'm not trying to stall; I'm trying to tell you to stop treating me like a child."

"Then stop acting like one."

"Haymitch!"

"Your ignoring Katniss' feelings; that's not like you."

"I'm not ignoring them. I try to talk to Katniss, but it doesn't do any good. What am I supposed to do? Dessert my daughter who has lost the only mother she's ever known until Katniss is ready to accept everything whole-heartedly? When's that going to happen, Haymitch?"

"Don't know…probably not for a very long time if you keep pushing her this hard. You should know her well enough to know that she's going to resist being pushed into something she's not ready for. And of course you shouldn't dessert your daughter. Just try to strike a balance between what both of them need right now."

I cross my arms at my chest and raise one hand to my chin.

"You haven't met Gloria. I already have to leave her at that orphanage every day. I'm doing that for Katniss. If I had my way about it Gloria would be meeting "Uncle Haymitch" in this hotel room right now. So I'm already trying to balance what Katniss needs with what would be best for Gloria. Trust me; it's not an easy job."

I sink down into the chair next to the sofa. He looks surprised.

"Tired out already? I thought you had a few more rounds left in you," he says.

Haymitch takes a drink.

"I don't know what to do, Haymitch."

Haymitch sits up, leans forward, and puts his elbows on his knees. I notice his eyes aren't really that bloodshot, and the liquor bottle he's holding is almost completely full.

"Slow. Down."

I nod slowly.

"She feels used and violated. She's angry. The worst of it seems to be on your behalf, not hers. She's always had nightmares about the capitol torturing you, but now there's a new layer of horror to them. She says she can't bear to think about…"

"Stop! Just stop! I don't want to talk about it. None of it is going to make me stop loving Gloria."

"Nobody's asking you to stop loving anybody, but people are going to have questions. If you don't want me to talk about this, you are going to be in big trouble. How are you going to explain this child's conception? You would have been in the hospital in District 13 when it happened. Katniss would have been in District 2 with Gale. It'll be a hard sell for anyone to believe she went into battle pregnant with your baby…or that either of us would let her do that."

I sigh. "Please, Haymitch. Stop."

"Kid, I just don't want you to be unprepared."

"Why can't they just leave us alone?" I lament as I bring my fingers to the bridge of my nose. Nothing like thinking about Capitol gossip to give you a headache.

"So we'll tell them the truth. Everyone in the whole country has seen me stabbed, naked, electrocuted, and beaten. What's one more invasion of my privacy? At least this time something will be left to their imagination.

"I think that's very brave, Kid. Seriously. Very noble. But I'm telling you the absolute truth when I say that Katniss isn't with you. You've got to give her some time. She cares about this little girl of yours. Though it seems misguided to you, she's trying to protect Gloria. You've got to show Katniss that there are better ways of protecting your little girl than avoiding her out of the fear of making mistakes.

Now, show me a picture. I'm sure you've got one, 'Daddy.'"

I smile.

"She looks and acts just like a little Katniss with blue eyes."

"Damn, you really are in trouble."


	5. Worthy

Katniss:

_He wears a white rose on his lapel. His puffy lips are red and probably bleeding though the camera angle does not allow me to visualize them well enough to know for sure._

_Snow holds our daughter up before the camera. Her little feet are kicking. Her hands are balled into fists. She's so small. Snow has sent proof through a released prisoner that she's ours. The prisoner brought samples of our daughter's hair and fingernails that Beetee has tested and retested. She's ours…a combination of our genetic resources. The prisoner also brought instructions for us to watch this broadcast._

_Snow shares all the unspeakable things he plans to do to our daughter if we don't follow his instructions. Tears fill my eyes, but I try to hold my head in a way that will keep them from running down my face where everyone can see them._

_"We here in District 13 are the only ones who can see this broadcast," Beetee explains._

_Haymitch adds, "Snow must know the rest of the country would be appalled by him threatening to torture such a small child so he's making sure nobody else can see this. He doesn't want to inflame the rebels in the districts."_

_Peeta's sitting beside me and holding my hand. I can feel his muscles tense when he hears the word…torture. He starts to rock back and forth just a little. I know he's trying to stay calm._

_"But he doesn't mind inflaming us?" Gale asks._

_"He already knows that virtually everyone in District 13 hates him enough to kill him a thousand times over. He's probably hoping this broadcast will scare some of us though," Haymitch continues._

_"Can you get her out?" I ask. "The way you got Peeta out?"_

_"We don't think so," Gale answers sadly. He knows what this is doing to me._

_"Can we try? I want to try. I'll go," I say._

_"I'll go too if you think I can help," Peeta adds._

_"No! That's exactly what he wants," Coin says angrily. "That baby is bait. You have to resist the temptation to try to rescue her or give in to Snow's demands. That's exactly why he's done this."_

_"But she's our child! We have to try to save her," Peeta pleads._

_"She's not really yours. She just has your genes. She's…theirs. They are choosing to hurt her or at least threatening to hurt her. It is not our concern."_

_Peeta's mouth drops open, making me want to bump his chin to get him to close it. I can't blame him for his shock though. I'm shocked too. Coin's reaction is cold, extremely cold._

_I think of the baby…in my arms instead of held up to the camera…and I want her here. I so desperately want her._

_"She's just a pawn…a piece in a game they are playing," Coin continues._

_Peeta has shut down. I think he's probably going into one of his confusion episodes, but whatever is going on with him has caused him to become extremely quiet._

_"She's going to die. You should accept it now. She was created to die. Even if you try to save her they'll kill her. They'll kill you too. She's not worth it."_

_Coin's words rip at my heart._

_Haymitch flinches. He must know I'm losing it._

_I'm faster than my mentor though. I lunge forward, and bend the President back over a computer console._

_"That's my daughter! If you ever say anything like that again, I'll kill you! She's worth everything! Everything!"_

_I start slapping at the President, and Gale half-heartedly pulls me off her. So I start hitting him too._

_"That's my daughter!" I keep screaming. "She's my daughter!"_

"Katniss! Wake up!" Peeta says.

"Wake up!"

My eyes fly open and catch sight of Peeta's worried gaze. He is hovering over me while I try to catch my breath.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You were flailing your arms around."

Then I notice his hand is on his nose.

"Did I hit you?" I ask.

"Yeah, but…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I sit up, looking at Peeta's face and pulling his hand back from his nose. He tries to keep his hand in place.

"It's okay. I know you were having a nightmare."

He takes his hand away from his nose and I see blood. I must have been hitting hard, and he must have been close to me.

He looks at the blood on his hand.

"I'm so sorry," I reiterate.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean to do it. Just let me clean up a little."

He leans down to put on his prosthetic leg.

"No, I'll get you a washcloth, you stay here."

So I do. Peeta's sitting on the bed, and when I come back I stand beside him and wipe away the blood on his face. Then I wipe his hand.

Peeta squeezes my hip with his other hand.

"What was your nightmare about? You seemed to be fighting someone."

"Apparently I was fighting you," I joke.

He smiles, "I lost."

"Only because you are too good a man to fight back," I grin.

"So who was it really?"

"Clove. It was Clove."

"I thought you and Clove fought with a knife, not hand to hand."

"Well, she had a knife."

I lay the washcloth on the glass tabletop of the nightstand.

Then he puts the hand I've washed on my other hip and presses his lips against my belly. Even through my nightgown it feels wonderful. I try to push away the fears brought out by the nightmare and enjoy being this close to my husband.

"Will you let me make it better?" he asks flirtatiously as he presses his lips against me again.

It tickles this time, and I giggle. Peeta loves it when I giggle. I start playing with his hair. It is much softer than one would think.

"However would you do that?" I ask.

He presses the side of his face against me, and I can feel his cheeks and lips form a smile.

"Oh, Mrs. Mellark, stop teasing me."

"No, Mr. Mellark, you are the one doing the teasing."

With that I sit down beside him. His blue eyes shine in the light coming from the bathroom. His smile fades and is replaced by a wanting gaze. It's been a while. We've been feeling so distant from each other lately.

Peeta turns toward me. He places his hand behind my head, his fingers tangling my hair. Stopping to take one more longing look at me, he tilts his head slightly. Then he kisses me slowly and gently before taking another moment to look into my eyes.

As he slowly lowers us down I pull my feet up on the bed to follow his lead.

"I love you so much Peeta," I say as I wrap my arms around him.

"I love you too."

/

Peeta:

"More!" she says.

"More what, Gloria?"

"Bamama!" She squeals as she pops up from the floor excitedly.

I fight back my laughter. "Can you say 'May I have more banana?'"

"More bamama!" She sways back and forth proudly.

"Close enough. Good job."

She's eaten a cheesebun and a small banana already. She seems hungry all the time, but I suppose the food here at the orphans' home is not very tasty. I know there's not much variety. Having eaten stale bread everyday as a child, I'm aware of exactly what that's like. I'm thankful that Gloria doesn't look particularly skinny though, not like some of the kids I grew up with in 12.

She takes one bite of the new banana and moves on to playtime. I eat what she's left behind while I watch her play.

Gloria keeps her doll with her even when she's not with me. So far it hasn't been lost or stolen, but that's probably because she clutches it so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Occasionally she gives the doll to me to hold for her, and I think that means she trusts me.

I keep her other toys with me at the hotel and bring one or two with me whenever I visit.

Today I brought the dollhouse. I've noticed that she never mentions and rarely plays with the doll that represents the "daddy."

"Who's this one?" I say pointing to the "daddy" doll.

She shrugs and says, "A boy."

Then she smiles a crooked little grin. She picks up the "daddy" doll and points her index finger into my chest.

"Pee-ta!" she says happily.

I touch her hair where it is falling on her shoulder.

"Yeah, that can be me. I'd like that."

She plays with the dollhouse a little longer, and I notice that she shows more interest in the doll she's identified as me. I'm sure she has no idea that I'm her father and may not even have a good idea of what a father is.

"Gloria, I need to leave now. I'll come back and see you soon though."

Gloria looks up from the dollhouse, her face falling into a frown.

"No, Pee-ta. Stay here…" she whines. "Pweeese!"

Uh! It's harder and harder to listen to that.

"I really have to go, Gloria."

"Go too! Go too!"

She's never said that before, I think.

"No, Sweetie. You can't go with me. "

I'm getting choked up. Leaving her breaks my heart.

She starts crying, but the sound is soft. This is not at all like the kind of fit she throws when she's not getting her way. This crying is sadder, almost like it's matching how I feel.

"Why you cry, Pee-ta.?"

I don't know what to say.

"Because I have to leave, and I don't want to leave. But I'll come back. I promise."

Her blue eyes look brighter filled with tears. They seem to peer down into my soul and ignite some emotion that I've never felt before. I think maybe this is what it feels like to be a father, and I'm just starting to understand it.

All of a sudden Gloria jumps into my arms and presses her little face against my shoulder.

I stay with her another ten minutes, but finally a staff member from the Orphans' home comes into the room.

"Time for dinner, Gloria," she says.

I'm supposed to respect the schedule the children have at the orphans' home. Normally I have no problem with that. Since I've been reading about children Gloria's age I know that they benefit from predictability. I am lost though because what I feel and what I think Gloria feels trumps the benefits that any schedule could provide.

Gloria clutches me tighter.

"Now Gloria, you know your friend will come back to see you. He comes every day. Let's go to eat."

She sobs and buries her face in my shoulder.

I look up at the lady from the orphans' home as if to say, "Help. I have no idea what to do here."

"Mr. Mellark, she may just have to cry a little. Normally in a situation like this the child will calm down after a few minutes."

Feeling like I have little choice I look down at Gloria. She gives me that pleading gaze that's killing me.

"I promise I'll come back tomorrow," I say as my voice cracks. "Bye-bye now." I pat her shoulder and try to pass her to the lady from the orphans' home. Gloria kicks her little feet and flails her arms while she cries a sad cry that quickly turns into a scream. She's no match for the lady's experience though. Soon enough she has Gloria tucked against her hip comfortably. Gloria lays her head over on the lady's shoulder, rubs her eyes with her chubby hand, and puffs her lips out. Then she scowls.

"Bye-bye," she says begrudgingly.

"Good girl, Gloria. Be nice to your friend. He's nice to you," the lady tells her.

I walk out while the lady talks to Gloria about what is for dinner. I close the door and lean against the wall to calm down a little. "Bye- bye," I repeat out loud to myself.

/

"Peeta, I…I'm shocked," Delly says when she hears about Gloria.

"Imagine how I felt."

"I can't. What are you going to do?"

"I want to take our daughter back to District 12 with us and raise her, but I'm fairly sure that Katniss wants to put her up for adoption."

"Wow, that's tough," Delly says sincerely.

She looks down at her plate and shifts her green beans around with her fork. It takes a lot to dampen Delly's optimism. She must understand that the decision about what to do about Gloria is driving a wedge between Katniss and me.

"Delly, I want to ask you if you think Gloria would ever be adopted if we don't take her home. I don't want her to stay in that orphans' home. The people there try. It's a nice place compared to some of the places kids in 12 grew up, but I think my daughter deserves a real family."

"She does, Peeta. They all do. Unfortunately there are not enough families to go around right now."

"But Gloria specifically…what do you think about her chances?" I ask.

"Well, she's under five. That helps some, but you said she has some sort of speech problem. People are hesitant to take that on."

"It's not that she can't talk. She's just not used to talking that much because her mother couldn't talk. The two of them must have had some kind of signing system because Gloria tries to makes signs and motions all the time. None of us know what they mean though."

"That's so sad. Poor baby. She's trying to communicate," Delly adds.

"Right. She's trying, and she's bright. When I try to get her to talk she usually does. It won't be long before she realizes that she has to talk now…I'm sure of it."

"Well, it still might scare people away. There are too many 'normal' three-year-olds available for them to consider one with a speech issue."

"What if Katniss and I let it be known that she's our daughter during the actual selection process? I mean, tell people up front. Do you think that would help her?"

"I'm sure there would be people interested just because of who she is. It makes me nervous though. How do you know how sincere they are? I would be more comfortable with somebody who chose your daughter on her own merits because they wanted to parent her and then found out who she was."

"Yeah, but you are saying there's a good chance nobody will choose her that way," I clarify.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. Children her age with any unusual qualities like a speech delay have only about a 10% chance of adoption before age five. After that it drops to almost zero."

I try to hide my reaction to the stark reality of percentages. The fact that there is only a 10% chance that someone would want Gloria is sad. She is wonderful. My eyes get misty. Delly knows me too well to miss it.

"Maybe you can convince Katniss. That's what I know you want anyway," she says.

"I've tried. It's not working."

"She needs to meet Gloria. I've found in my work that meeting the child is really helpful when an extended family member is hesitant about taking responsibility for a child. It clarifies true feelings. I think it must be a little like how parents bond when they first see their newborn, though the process is probably slower. As delicately as you can and without pushing, try to get Katniss to meet Gloria."

[AN: Special thanks to my new beta, Katnissinme, for all her help]


	6. Tests

Beetee:

There are questions that none of them are asking. Frankly, I'm surprised. The social worker said it was imperative that we notify Peeta and Katniss immediately when we realized they were probably the biological parents of the child. Personally, I thought moving too fast was ill-advised. I deferred to the social worker as the child welfare expert, though. I may not understand some things, but I know that children can be fragile.

After we confirmed that Peeta and Katniss were the parents of the child, I wanted to make sure she was "normal" and not what is commonly referred to as a "mutt." There were certain tests that I could do to check to see if her DNA or early cellular development had been disrupted by scientific manipulations. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that without explaining my actions to Peeta and Katniss. Haymitch predicted that the conversation would not be easy.

"You want to what?" Peeta asks protectively.

"I want to run some tests to make sure your daughter's development was not influenced by the scientific capabilities of the Capitol," I answer.

"You mean you want to make sure she's not a mutt," Katniss clarifies, crossing her arms across her chest.

"They are just tests. Why wouldn't you want to run them?" I inquire.

"What kind of tests? Will they hurt her?" Peeta asks.

"They shouldn't."

"Shouldn't!" Peeta's on his feet now, circling behind their chairs nervously.

"Why didn't you do this before?" Katniss inquires.

"I needed your consent. The social worker was not comfortable consenting when we had such a good idea of who the biological parents were. She said that would not be fair to you."

"And she was right! She's our daughter, Beetee. Nobody should be allowed to lay a finger on her without our consent," Peeta blurts out.

"So what do the tests involve?" Katniss asks.

"Retrograde cellular development modeling, genetic imaging, extensive chromosome testing, DNA mapping, scans of major organ systems…"

"In English, Beetee. What's our daughter going to be expected to endure for you to find out what you need to know?" Peeta interrupts.

"Well, if it were my child I'd just have them put her under anesthesia for a few hours. It would be hard for a child to lay still for the length of time necessary to do some of the procedures. If she were asleep then we could do all the scans, get the bloodwork, biopsy certain organs…"

"What the hell are you talking about, Beetee? I am not going to agree to that!"

Experience has taught me not to point out the irrational behaviors of other people. It only drags the situation down to an even more unreasonable level. I stay quiet as Peeta slams his hand down on my desk.

Peeta watches me warily for a moment before he sits back down, rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, and covers his face partially with one of his hands.

"I can't let you do that," he says slowly. "I don't want you to do anything that will hurt her, and I certainly don't want you to do any surgery."

"Well, it wouldn't be surgery exactly. We'd use large hollow needles and ultrasound to perform the biopsies," I answer. "Surgery would be a bit extreme."

"I need to leave," Peeta says. Katniss looks at him sharply, "Want me to go with you?"

"No. That's all right."

Once he leaves, Katniss leans forward and points her finger at me.

"Don't ever do that to him again," she says.

She hardly blinks as she stares at me. Her face looks hard, like she's holding her muscles in a tense state. I wonder if she's doing that on purpose or not.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask her.

"Oh, I don't know, Beetee…maybe surprising him with information that was incredibly upsetting."

She's being sarcastic. I can tell that.

Katniss sighs and turns her face away from me.

"You know they stuck him full of needles when he was in prison. You said yourself that he was drugged much of the time. They made him forget who he really was, and Johanna even called him a mutt once because of what happened to him. He lost his mind, and it has taken years to rebuild his life. You know all that Beetee. Then you go and tell him he should let you drug his daughter so you can stick her full of needles and make sure she's not a mutt? Don't you think that might be a little disturbing to him?"

"Well, I never thought about it that way."

"You should have. From now on, you tell me what you absolutely have to do to ensure that that little girl is not going to hurt anybody or herself because of something they might have done to her. And let me be clear that I said me, not Peeta. I will take that information into consideration and let you know what we are going to do."

"Katniss, I didn't mean…"

"Just forget about it Beetee. I know you meant no harm. Just please tell me what I need to know. I have to go and check on Peeta."

/

Katniss:

As I leave Beetee's office his secretary hands me a note from Peeta.

"Went to see Gloria. Don't worry. I'll meet you at the hotel later. Love, Peeta."

I am worried though. Beetee's office is not that far from the orphans' home, where I know our daughter lives. Both are in an area of the city just off City Circle, a place that still sends a cold chill down my spine. I walk as fast as I can without breaking into a run. I nearly knock down our social worker as I reach the door.

"Mrs. Mellark," she says. "Is everything all right? Why are you running?"

"Where's my husband? I need to check on him. He came to see Gloria."

"Then he's probably upstairs. This way, I'll show you."

She leads me up a narrow winding staircase to a noisy floor with many doors. Children are stripping beds of sheets and stuffing the sheets into bags.

"Sorry, it's laundry day," the social worker explains. "The children are responsible for gathering their sheets."

I nod.

She leads me down two more halls where there are sitting rooms and what looks like a school room. The orphans' home is too cold and dark, but it's not entirely unpleasant.

"Here we are," she says. She opens a door, and I see Peeta sitting on the floor with Gloria. He's talking to her so softly that I can't hear what he's saying.

The social worker smiles.

"Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy your visit," she says.

It's as though she's kicked me in the back and knocked the wind out of me.

With that the social worker closes the door.

I never intended to have "a visit."

Peeta looks up. Under normal circumstances, he'd have lit up like a Christmas tree to have me visit our daughter, but his expression is a little sad instead.

"Want to come over here?" he asks as he starts to stand.

Without answering, I step forward. After two steps I feel like my feet become glued to the floor.

Our daughter turns around. She scoots back and away from me just a little. Pointing at me she looks inquisitively at Peeta. Peeta glances from me to her and back again.

"Who that, Pee-ta?"

"That's someone very special, Gloria."

"You like her?" Our daughter asks staring up at me.

"Yes, I like her very much. She's my wife, the person who lives with me at my house. Her name is Katniss."

Gloria nods turning her attention back to a doll she's holding in her lap.

Peeta motions for me to come closer. I take another tentative step, but Gloria senses it and scoots back. I look at Peeta.

I knew she wouldn't like me.

"Gloria, can you tell Katniss what we've been learning to do?"

"Sing."

"Sing?" I ask and look at Peeta.

Peeta is a terrible singer. I can't imagine what he's teaching her to sing or how he sounds doing it.

"Yeah, it will help her with her verbal skills, Katniss. I read about it. So I'm trying to teach her to sing. The only song they've taught her here is the Children's Anthem. You know, the one written for children to sing at the arena memorial services."

Yes, I remember. Peeta and I attended the memorial service for our games. We watched some of the others on television. The memorial services were excruciating, but the little children's song was sweet. The young voices singing it seemed to warm even the coldest of hearts. Since then it had become a kind of national anthem specifically for children.

"She has a very pretty voice, Katniss," Peeta adds with a grin.

I know what he's doing, and I'm not sure how to respond to it. She does look like me, and maybe he thinks she acts like me. That doesn't mean I can raise her, but for some reason I suddenly want her to look at me again. Since I'm just "Katniss" and not "mother" then I suppose it can't hurt.

"Do you like to sing?" I ask Gloria. She looks up and shrugs.

"You know the song about the children?"

She shrugs again.

Peeta comes closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders.

"Sing to her," he whispers. "I bet she'll sing with you. She likes it."

Anxiety grips me. I hadn't meant to see her or interact with her or sing to her.

Gloria takes matters into her own hands though. She starts singing by herself. I softly join her. She

can't say all the words correctly, but that makes her singing the song all the more endearing.

_"Out of ashes; Comes the life._

_Those who fought; No more in strife._

_No more worries; No more fears._

_In the spring there are no tears…"_

My voice fails. The song is too much. The simplistic beauty of it overwhelms me. I hate losing control like this. Even more distressing is that the emotions spinning out of control are tethered to this child and not just to the song she's singing.

As I so often do when fear threatens to drown me, I turn to Peeta.

His eyes are filled with hope, probably false hope. He tightens his loving hold on my shoulders.

"Why she cry, Pee-ta?" Gloria asks, gazing up at him and tugging at his pants leg.

I am crying. Tears stream down my face, but until Gloria pointed it out I hadn't realized it.

"That's a happy kind of crying. She's just happy that the song is true. It's a happy song."

I'm shaking all over. Peeta pulls me to his side and puts his arm around my waist to steady me.

"Hug," Gloria whimpers as she pulls on his pants leg again.

Peeta glances at me, his lips parting just a little. Then he nods toward Gloria and kneels down taking me with him, willingly or unwillingly.

Gloria throws her arms around Peeta's neck, which puts her very close to me even though I'm not part of the hug. My thoughts race back a decade, and I think of another child who needed reassurance but never received it. Though my hands are still shaking, I wrap the one farthest from Peeta very lightly around our daughter. Gloria has had her face turned away from me. When I touch her she turns her head from where it rests on Peeta's chest and peeks over her own thin arm to look at me cautiously.

Oh, my. Peeta is right. She is like me.

[AN – Hope you like this chapter and it surprised you a little that Katniss met Gloria. Special thanks to "Katnissinme" for her assistance as a Beta and "Loueze" for her ideas regarding certain plot elements - THANK YOU]


	7. Turned Around

**Peeta:**

Our daughter is screaming. Screaming!

I wouldn't allow Beetee to drug her. Remembering too well the panic of being plunged into a state of dull lethargy that made me feel like I was sinking or even dying, I just could not allow someone to do that to my daughter. Although I trusted Beetee as a scientist, I didn't trust his understanding of human vulnerabilities to fear and pain. For all his strengths, Beetee demonstrated little capacity for true empathy.

After much deliberation, Katniss and I decided to allow only tests that we thought would not scare Gloria. Scared doesn't begin to describe what she sounds like now. Katniss is with her, and she promised me she'd tell Beetee to stop whatever he was doing if Gloria became afraid. Though I want to trust Katniss, I'm immediately angry that she hasn't kept her promise.

I rush toward the door of the room where I know Beetee and his team are conducting the tests. Before I can even reach the door, a dizziness that hasn't struck me in at least a year prohibits me from going forward. The sense of doom that I always feel when I'm on the brink of a major episode creeps into my chest. I lean against the wall and then sink to the floor to avoid falling. Darkness descends, and my ears ring. My head tingles. The frustration of being unable to stop what's happening to me only underscores everything the Capitol took from me with their drugs and torture. The only good thing they gave me, my daughter, is screaming for me to help her, and I can't.

/

**Katniss:**

"Sweetie, you are going to be just fine. You'll blink and it will be over," the woman with the needle tells her.

Gloria clutches her doll with the arm that they aren't trying to stick with the needle.

Beetee supervises.

Then Gloria looks up at me with doe eyes. I'm the only person she knows in the room, and I know she'd rather have Peeta here.

Amazingly, Gloria doesn't cry. After they stick her she's motionless and watches with wide-eyed fascination as her blood fills the little test tubes.

"Oh, you are so brave," the woman tells her. "The next part will be easy too."

The woman's prediction couldn't be more wrong.

We cross the room, and Beetee points out several machines used to scan the body. I'm familiar with them from when I was wounded during the war.

"All you have to do is hop up here, lie down, and stay still," the woman tells Gloria reassuringly while Beetee explains more about the complexities of the testing process to me.

"This takes a little longer than getting blood, but I know you can do it," the woman tells Gloria.

Once Gloria is lying down the woman pulls out some elastic straps and places them across her chest, hips and legs.

"These straps just hug you and make sure you don't forget to be still," the woman says.

_Oh, this would kill Peeta,_ I think nervously.

Then Gloria starts to whimper. She glances back at me. I half smile, hoping to make this just a little easier for her. The machine makes a loud repetitive bumping noise, and Gloria's whimpers transition quickly into screams of terror. I rush to her, but the woman motions for me to stay back.

I hesitate, but then Peeta's words echo in my head. _"Please don't let them hurt her,"_ he'd said.

The desire to protect Peeta looms also though. What if she is a mutt? Could she be dangerous? What would it do to him to find out she had been altered somehow? Shouldn't he know now rather than later? After all, she's only scared. They aren't _hurting_ her, are they?

She's screaming though. Hearing her scream makes me shudder.

Then I hear her scream for him.

"Pee-ta!" she screams over the bumping noise of the machine. "Pee-ta! Pweeease!"

My heart lurches in my chest, and I know I'm not keeping my promise to Peeta if I don't stop this.

"Stop. Just stop, please," I tell the woman over Gloria's screams.

The machine whirs more slowly before falling completely silent.

I free Gloria from the straps by myself, my fingers cold and numb which is exactly how I feel inside as well.

_I promised Peeta I'd be here to make sure they didn't hurt her, and I let them hurt her. I hate myself._

"Katniss, if I may be so bold as to say…"

"No, Beetee, you may not. You can run any tests you want with that blood, but we are not agreeing to do anything else. Period."

I pull Gloria by the hand to the door planning to run away as fast as possible, but as soon as I swing it open I gasp.

Peeta's leaned up against the wall. His face is colorless, and his eyes look as though they don't see at all.

In seconds I'm on the floor in front of him calling his name.

"It's Katniss. Come back to me," I reach down to grasp his hands and try to pull them up to touch my face, but his muscles are rigid.

_Oh, no. This is bad._

"Promised…" he miraculously whispers. His voice trails off. Then his pupils consume the crystal blue irises that normally bring me such peace, and I'm terrified.

I put my hands on Peeta's shoulders. The feel of his strained muscles under my hands reminds me of my bow when it's taut.

"She's alright, Peeta," I say, motioning toward Gloria. "I stopped them. I won't let them hurt your daughter, _our_ daughter. Please, Peeta. Come back to me."

My eyes fill with tears. He hasn't had an episode in five months, and the last one was mild. They are never violent anymore, at least not toward anyone other than himself. What's so difficult about them for me is watching him suffer. This one looks more like the one he had about a year ago. It was long and awful for him, like a constant nightmare from which he couldn't be awakened. He stayed confused for days afterwards.

Gloria moves to the side of Peeta where she comes into my view again. Her blue eyes narrow as she observes him carefully. When she pulls on his sleeve and there's no response Gloria's face scrunches into an expression of worry.

"Pee-ta? Way-up," she says.

She drops to her knees, one of which is already covered with a little bandage from where she fell out of bed at the orphan's home. She puts her little hand on the outside of my thigh. Then she uses me as leverage to crawl over my arm and into Peeta's lap. She pulls on his shirt and whimpers. At first I think I should protect her by wrenching her away, but I can feel Peeta's muscles relax where I'm still holding him.

"Not like Mommy. Way-up. Way-up! Not go away! Not like Mommy!" she cries.

_Mommy?_ _Her dead Mommy? She doesn't know any other Mommy so that must be what she means._

"Gloria, Peeta's sick but he's not going away," I reassure her. Then I think maybe her Mommy had been sick too so I add, "He will be okay. I promise."

Gloria ignores me and presses the side of her face against Peeta's chest. The she cries softly while she continues to tug on his shirt. When I try to pull her away she cries harder.

Beetee mercifully comes to the door with his assistant.

The assistant tries to pry Gloria from Peeta, and she screams even louder than she did a few minutes ago.

"Leave her. Gloria's scared enough already. She needs to know that he's not going anywhere."

"Won't he hurt her?" The assistant says looking at Beetee.

Beetee looks at me.

"No, he won't. He actually relaxed a little when Gloria tried to comfort him. I think he knows she's there. Please just let them stay there together," I tell them.

_/_

_**Peeta:** _

_I hear her, but I can't find her._

" _Peeta!" She calls._

_We never should have separated. Midnight is moments away based on my estimates, and I have to get to her to make sure she's safe. What if she's calling me because she's injured or one of the other tributes is attacking her?_

" _Peeta!"_

_I've been preparing to die since I heard about the reaping process for the Quarter Quell, and I made it my purpose to ensure that Katniss would live. I love her so much! I fear the boom of the cannon as I try to navigate the jungle terrain with my bad leg._

_The boom from the lightning strike is even louder than the one that interrupted our passionate kisses last night. As the crackling of the strike continues, the arena sky ignites in a strange blue light. I'm thrown back and down from the force of something flying a part. The forcefield? I look up at the sky, the real sky. It's there._

_What's happening? Where's Katniss? I have to get to her. She's calling for me to help her, and I can't get to her!_

_/_

**Katniss:**

Gloria is screaming, still. I'm holding on to Peeta's shoulders tightly, not even attempting to reorient him. I hear Haymitch and Beetee, but I don't take in most of what they are saying. Haymitch kneels down behind me.

"Get up. Give Peeta some air," Haymitch tells me. "Take care of your girl. She needs you. Peeta would want you to comfort _her_ right now."

Haymitch attempts to pull me back by my arm.

"Leave me alone! Let go!" I scream angrily as I yank my arm out of his hands.

I turn to Peeta, crashing into his chest. He doesn't react.

"Katniss!" Haymitch screams. "The girl's mother died of a seizure in front of her. Stop acting like a child and do something for her."

I don't register his words at first.

_We shouldn't even be here. We should be at home in District 12. I hate the Capitol!_

_Seizure? Died? Her mother? Oh, no._

Haymitch pulls Gloria from Peeta's lap and holds her tightly. Though she shrieks and kicks her feet, Haymitch handles her with uncanny ease.

"It's all right. He's all right," he tells her. She cries more. "Peeta is fine. He's kind of sleeping, but he will wake up soon."

I've never heard Haymitch's voice sound like this. Perhaps this is the voice he used with his baby brother.

"Pee-ta," Gloria cries. "Pwease _way-up ag-in_!"

Glancing back at Haymitch, I see he's rubbing Gloria's arm reassuringly.

I just want to escape because it's too overwhelming – the feelings, the helplessness, the fear. I do know something about losing people. Too much actually.

_The air is bitterly cold as I stand outside the entrance to the mine with my mother, Prim, and so many people that I know from the Seam. I shudder from both the cold in the air and the misery in my heart. Images of my father choking on dirt and dust flash in my mind. He's drowning in earth. A memory of a day when I dove too deeply into the depths of the lake invades my mind. I felt a hunger for air and a drive to breathe that made me suck in water. I coughed and sputtered when I reached the surface as my throat and lungs burned. My father held on to me with his strong arms while I shook with fear. I wonder if my father feels like that right now. Does it take longer to drown in earth than water? Does it hurt more? My heart is breaking for my father, who always makes me feel safe. I'll never feel safe again if he's gone, I know it._

_Another elevator arrives, and I lean forward hopefully. My pulse quickens and the deepest longing I have ever felt rises up through me. If only I can see him walk out of the elevator every other problem in my life will be inconsequential. Then I see the miners. They are from another work crew, one that was far from the site of the explosion. My head falls forward involuntarily, and I feel my face crease with the pain of knowing that my father is still in the depths of the coal mine._

_I can almost see my father being crushed by the walls of the mine. Straining against their weight he moans out his agony. They squeeze the breath out of him until he is defeated. I know what dying can sound like. I've seen excruciating pain play out many times on my own kitchen table as my mother nursed the dying with no means to ease their suffering. There was no means to ease suffering miles below the earth either._

_Someone touches me. I look up and see our baker, Mr. Mellark. He's placing a piece of bread in my palm while patting the back side of my hand lightly. His kind eyes focus on mine and then move on to my mother's face. I squint in confusion, but mother listens to him intently. Then I turn and see his sons standing near-by. One is my age, I think. I've seen him in class. His eyes are like his father's but they flit away from my gaze._

Paramedics arrive at Beetee's urging.

"He has these episodes sometimes," Beetee mutters, "but this one seems very prolonged. His condition is well beyond my abilities to evaluate. His doctor is Dr. Aurelius in psychiatry at Central Hospital."

"We'll make sure they know that at the hospital. Clearly he needs medical attention," one of the paramedics replies.

They continue to mumble as I sob softly. When Haymitch leans against the wall for a moment I can see that Gloria has cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.

"Get up, Katniss." He implores me. "Really, get up. Let them look at him. You are making yourself look crazy." I claw at Peeta's shoulders as waves of panic roll over me. Peeta usually anchors me. He chases the terror away, but in his emotional absence my sense of security fades. This is all too much. I can't control any of it. This place. These people. Our daughter. Her mother. Rules. Episodes. Death.

The paramedics try to get to Peeta.

"No! Don't take him! I can take care of him. Please! He hates it here. Don't take him away!" I scream.

"Sweetheart," Haymitch begins but then stops.

I see needles and vials of medication.

"No! Don't!" I yell. "Don't drug him! Don't hurt him! I promised. No needles. No hurting anybody."

I'm crying and screaming about love, venom, babies, and torture. Wrapping my arms around Peeta's neck I cling to him.

"I love you. I love you so much!"

Suddenly, I feel one of the paramedics hold my arm tightly. Instead of pulling it away, she holds it down. Then there's the sharp jab of a needle into my flesh.

/

I wake up on the sofa in Beetee's office.

Haymitch sits in a rolling office chair beside me, also sleeping.

I touch his knee, and he stirs. When he hasn't been drinking a pitcher of water is not required to rouse him.

As he wakes he stands up as if he's ready for a fight for his life though, wielding a knife he's not even holding. The office chair rolls away a few inches.

"It's just me, Haymitch. We're on the same side."

His expression is serious, disturbed.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask him.

Haymitch drops his arms from their fight ready position. Then he sits back down in the chair before explaining, "Peeta's at the hospital. Beetee's with him. He called me a little while ago and said Peeta is starting to wake up but is very confused."

"I have to see him," I say rising to my feet. As I do, I fall backwards onto the sofa.

_That's right, they drugged me!_

"Why did you let them drug me, Haymich?"

"I had nothing to do with it. You were hysterical and refused to get out of their way. If it wasn't for me you'd be at the hospital too, but I promised I'd keep an eye on you."

"Fine job of that you were doing," I goad.

"Yeah, that's right. Beat me up for trying to help you. That always works well for you, doesn't it?"

Haymitch glares at me.

Burying my face in my open hands, I whimper just a little. I miss District 12 and my woods. I want to go home. Why can't everything just go back to "normal?"

"Don't you want to know where your daughter is?" Haymitch asks cynically.

I startle and look up. The room spins.

_Yes, I do want to know. I just hadn't thought of her…yet._

"Where is she?"

"Back at the orphan's home. I bet what happened to Peeta reminded her of what happened to her mother. She might be only three, but she's perceptive. She watched her mother die, Katniss. That's not something a child forgets."

I lower my head.

"Before today I didn't know how her mother died, Haymitch. How could I have known?"

"Regardless, you were thinking of yourself in this situation most of the time, not your daughter. You have to start thinking of her. It's time to do that."

I sit up straight and stare at him.

"I still don't want to be a mother," I admit. "Gloria is a sweet little girl, and I feel sorry for her. Truly, I do. But I'm not equipped to raise her. That's no secret. Why are you surprised that I failed her?"

"For the record, I don't believe any of that except that Gloria is a sweet girl, but there are people who would agree with you," he says. "There are people who think you are not going to take care of this little girl and are just dragging out this situation for your own benefit, for example. Your actions today won't help their opinion. It's likely they'll hear about them too."

There's an edge to his voice, a cautionary tone.

"What are you talking about?"

"I got a call this morning from the judge who _was_ considering extending your permission to stay in the Capitol a little longer. He says he thinks you are stalling, Katniss. He thinks you have no intention of taking your daughter home or even making a decision about what to do with her."

"Stalling? Of course I'm not stalling."

"What you think doesn't matter. He's the one with the power, and he's sending you home."

My mouth drops open in shock.

"Back to District 12, with me," Haymitch adds.

"What about Peeta," I pause, "and Gloria?"

"Peeta can do whatever he wants to do because his travel is not restricted. Gloria has to stay in the Capitol because you two haven't made any official moves to take full custody of her through the court system."

"Peeta won't just leave her here. I know he won't."

Haymitch sighs and leans back in his chair.

"I think you may be right, especially now that she's seen what she saw today. He'll want to show her that he's well once he is well."

A sense of sadness overtakes me, and I'm afraid in a way I haven't been since before Peeta and I were married.

"That means he'll leave me alone instead," I whisper.


	8. Goodbye

**Katniss:**

"We're almost there," I tell Peeta.

"Why am I so sleepy? I hate it," he slurs as he slings his arm from my shoulder to his side unexpectedly.

"I don't know exactly, Honey. Probably some medicine they gave you. It'll get better."

I lean against Peeta's side and try to hold him up a little as he takes a few more wobbly steps. Then Haymitch and I clasp our arms together behind Peeta's back to try to stop him from swaying backwards.

Peeta sighs when his knees finally reach the soft hotel mattress. He sits down clumsily and curls up around one of the pillows, drawing his legs up as close to his chest as he can. He never slept this way before the hijacking as far as I know, and now he only does it when an episode strikes him. I sit down and gingerly touch him before starting to remove his artificial leg. He will be uncomfortable unless it's removed, but he's too confused to remember that or remove it himself.

The doctors at the hospital claimed they didn't need to keep Peeta very long once they established that he was having an episode and not a new problem. I also suspected that Peeta's presence disrupted the operations of their emergency room in a way they felt was needless. Because the doctors mostly ignored Peeta and his symptoms, Haymitch called Dr. Aurelius who listened to our story and prescribed some medicine to help Peeta get through this particular episode. He'd taken it before but disliked it because of the severe side effects. It should help him if I can convince him to take it.

Peeta reaches for me.

"Tell me a story," he says. "Tell me about the happiest day you can remember."

Haymitch glances at me with his sad gray eyes. When his face is still like this I can see the worry lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows, some of the many remnants of his years of anxiety. The fact that Haymitch stays sober as much as he does is a virtual miracle. Anything that reminds him of the games pains him, especially when it involves his tributes. He gently pats my shoulder and whispers. "I'll be just outside if you need me, Sweetheart," before leaving the room.

I lie down next to Peeta, bending my knees behind his and pressing the side of my face against the back of his neck. He smells like the sterile places we've been, the hospital and Beetee's lab. I miss how he smells at home, like spices and fresh-baked bread. When I wrap one arm around Peeta's shoulder I realize that I'm holding him the way he usually holds me. I'm smaller than him, making how we are situated awkward. Peeta is still and accepting anyway.

"I'm sure I spent my happiest day with you. In fact, almost all the happiest days I can remember involve you. If I had to pick just one then our wedding day would probably be the happiest of all. You convinced me that marriage was a beautiful way to express our love for each other, and now I understand what you meant. On our wedding day making you happy felt wonderful, and that made it the best day."

I stroke Peeta's hair, damp from sweating. He's been lost to us for several hours, hallucinating and having what we believe are flashbacks. The exhaustion will be profound when the episode finally subsides. For now, I'm just glad he's in a happy place.

Haymitch and I originally planned to get the medicine Dr. Aurelius prescribed for Peeta on the way back to the hotel, but even before we left the hospital the news media bragged on television of "breaking news" stories specifying "details" about Peeta's condition. Few of their "details" contained even a shred of truth so they most likely came from the visitors and other patients at the hospital. None of that diminished the tantalizing nature of the "details," reminding me that the people of the Capitol still loved gawking at our pain.

Haymitch poked his head through the bedroom door.

"Katniss, Effie picked-up Peeta's medicine. She's waiting downstairs. Security stopped her from coming up here. I'm going down to meet her," he says.

I nod.

When he's sober, and sometimes when he's not, Haymitch thinks of everything.

Alone with my indisposed husband, I feel a cold chill. Being afraid of Peeta during his episodes is part of my past, not my present. Still, I fear the episodes for Peeta's sake. What if he needs something and I fall apart like I usually do? Everyone assumes I am strong, but when it comes to watching Peeta endure these episodes I become as weak as water.

Peeta says something that sounds like nonsense, scrunches into an even tighter ball and starts to visibly tremble. His eyes shut. Physically he's right next to me, but mentally he might be a million miles away.

"Peeta, it's not real. I promise."

He grimaces and I wonder if it's in response to my whisperings or whatever thoughts are running through his mind.

Some might say I'm foolish for staying so close when Peeta's so confused given that he once tried to kill me, but I want to comfort him. My presence usually lessens the intesnsity of his misery. Sometimes he's even able to thank me for soothing him during the episodes so I know it helps. I stroke the tender skin behind his ear with my fingertips.

"It's not real. Just rest."

My eyes tear up for the first time since I left Beetee's office. Staying strong at the hospital tired me out, but I refused to let anyone there see me cry. Now that the tears have started they will probably continue on and off until I have to leave the Capitol. Even thinking of abandoning Peeta in a state like this troubles me deeply, and no matter what the law requires I doubt that I have to fortitude to do it.

/

**Haymitch:**

The girl is throwing her clothes in a suitcase, mad a tracker jacker. The boy is watching her, still confused. Experience tells me that he'll be much better in another day or two. Unfortunately, she doesn't have that long.

"Why is she doing that?" The boy asks me for the fourth time.

"A judge is forcing her to go back to District 12, Peeta, remember?" I remind him.

He squints as he examines my face.

He opens his mouth as if he's going to say something but then he closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor.

"But if Katniss is Gloria's mother why can't we all go to District 12 together?" He inquires in a bewildered tone. "I know I'm supposed to know why, but I can't remember."

I like to keep an eye on the boy when he's like this, but watching him in such a state makes me want to drink myself into a coma. I manage to resist the urge only because I also feel compelled to make sure the boy's safe. After all, I participated in the decision that left him at the mercy of the Capitol's torturers.

This time is different. Nobody can be in two places at once. I'm court ordered to keep an eye on Katniss even though Katniss doesn't need me nearly as much as the boy does right now. The judge fails to understand the fallacy of his decision. I'm beginning to think he must have been President Coin's best friend in grade school or something. Of all the things governments have done to these kids, separating them is one of the most merciless. They need each other, especially now.

Nothing I say to the judge makes any difference. When I told him Peeta was ill and needed his wife the judge replied, "Then tell him to go with her."

"But his daughter needs him. She's afraid," I pointed out.

"Then tell him to sign the paperwork required to take the child home! It's simple, Mr. Abernathy. They are the ones making this difficult."

He refused to speak to Katniss because he claimed she's still disoriented. He used her "continued mental disorder" as an excuse and referenced her "irrational and inappropriate behavior at the National Science and Health Center where her biological daughter was receiving legitimate diagnostic treatments" as evidence.

I'm not sure what the "appropriate" response to watching your spouse sink into a psychological abyss brought on by the memories of torture he endured as a prisoner of war actually is, and I think it's rather arrogant for this judge to assume that he does. But what I think is irrelevant. Tomorrow Katniss and I will be on a train bound for District 12, and Peeta will stay with Effie for now.

Katniss sits down on the bed and covers her face with her hands. I hear her soft sobs and hope that Peeta won't.

"Why is she crying, Haymitch? Did I do something wrong?"

I sigh. "Peeta, I think you need to get some more rest."

I pull out a bottle of pills prescribed by Dr. Aurelius.

Peeta holds up his hand as if he'll push the bottle away if I bring it any closer.

"Please don't try to make me take those," he says. "They make me feel weird. I'm not going to hurt anybody. I just want to know why she's crying."

We're so different. If it were me, I'd be ready to take anything and everything to make it all go away, to forget. Peeta doesn't want to forget. He wants to remember.

Katniss walks slowly to face Peeta. Maybe she heard his questions. She leans in to get close to him and watches his reaction with her red and swollen eyes. He allows it.

"Why are you leaving me? What did I do wrong? Is it because I love this little girl?" Peeta asks her, the hurt in his voice apparent.

"I don't want to leave, but I have no choice, Peeta. The judge won't approve for me to stay in the Capitol any longer. You can go with me or you can stay here and take care of Gloria. I thought you'd want to stay with Gloria, but this is your decision. I can tell you this. You've said before that Gloria is only three, and she won't understand if you disappear. That's what makes me believe that you'll regret it if you leave the Capitol right now."

Peeta reaches for Katniss' hands and pulls at them just a little. She apparently trusts that she understands his intentions and sits down beside him.

"How can our daughter be three?" He whispers. Then he glances down at his wedding ring and uses his thumb to twist it around his finger. It's a little loose, probably because we can't get him to drink much. "We haven't been married that long, have we?"

Katniss' voice catches when she answers him. "No, but she's still ours."

Peeta's still holding her hands, and he turns toward her a little more making how they are sitting together look a little less awkward.

He glances over at me, and I get the impression he wishes I wasn't there but is afraid to ask me to leave. He swallows hard and tells her, "I'm sorry. This is…not what you wanted. Right? I should have been more careful."

"You did nothing wrong, Peeta. Gloria was just given to us. She's a gift. If you decide to stay here with Effie then you can take care of her for us. Okay? If you go home with me, we can still call about her often. Maybe we can even talk to her on the phone."

Peeta's brow furrows. "I want to take care of her," he says, "but I don't want you to leave."

"She needs you, Peeta. I think you should stay here with Gloria for now." Katniss says gently and she moves closer to hug him. Peeta lays his head on her shoulder. As soon he can no longer see her face, Katniss lets the tears fall again.

**Peeta:**

I'm falling asleep in her arms and wondering if she'll still be there when I wake up. Should I tell her goodbye? No, that sounds too final. Goodbyes are dangerous.

" _I'm not coming home, not this time," I told my brother, Graham._

_I'd been trying to tell him "goodbye" all afternoon. He wouldn't let me. He just kept encouraging me as he whipped cream, cracked eggs, kneaded dough, cut cookies, and frosted cakes. Since I'd been training for the Quarter Quell his cake decorating skills had improved. Normally I'd join him in all these baking activities, but I was much too nervous to do anything._

_So I just blurted it out again, "Did you hear me? I'm not coming home." I couldn't be clearer than that. Stating my plans out-loud would be too painful._

" _You've got to stop thinking like that, Peeta. You're going to come home," he told me earnestly. "You have to believe that to fight. You've been training for months so have some confidence. Besides, you might not even have to go. Maybe it will be Haymitch. You don't know."_

_I wondered if Graham had been in this much denial before my first games. Even if I tried to win with everything I had, there was little hope I'd actually be the victor._

_I ran my fingers along the tops of the eggs Graham had laid out on the counter, and then I lowered my gaze._

" _Yes, I do know."_

_Graham stopped stirring and put the mixing bowl he was holding on the countertop. Then he sat down on the stool behind him a little too fast. An older man would have fallen over and taken the stool with him, but Graham caught his balance and merely swayed a little._

_His voice was low when he said, "You aren't even going to try, are you?"_

_I swallowed hard. Foolishly, I'd hoped Graham would be supportive. He'd do anything for his wife and baby son, and I thought he'd understand._

" _No, I'm going to try, but I'm not coming home. I'm going to try to…"_

" _You want to save her at the expense of your life, just like before," he finished. It was a statement, not a question._

" _Well, what if you can't, Peeta? Why don't you just try to win and hope for the best for both of you this time? Why don't you let Haymitch take your place if he's willing or if his name is the one drawn? Why do you keep doing this?"_

" _Doing what?"_

" _Putting yourself last!" Graham shoved the mixing bowl across the countertop, his usual cool-headed demeanor obviously overpowered by this upsetting news._

" _I love her," I whispered._

" _Dammit. I know you love her, but in some ways you two are cut from the same cloth. She wouldn't want you to sacrifice your life for her. Didn't you learn anything about her from what she did in the last Hunger Games? She was willing to die with you rather than kill you or let you bleed to death."_

_My lack of reaction caused Graham further distress. His shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms over his chest._

_I couldn't look him in the eyes so I kept my attention on the countertop, using my finger to draw small patterns in the flour spilled there._

" _What would you do if it were your wife?" I asked him._

" _That's a little different because she's my wife and the mother of my child," He said quietly._

" _And that's what would make the difference to you? You'd protect her as your wife and mother of your child but not as simply the woman you love?_

_Graham's voice started to crack._

" _I don't know. All I know is that I love my brother. I don't want to lose you, Peeta."_

_He stood up and put his arm around my shoulders just for a moment._

" _I want to tell you 'goodbye,' Graham," I choked out._

" _Thank you," he said in a barely audible voice. "But I can't say it back. Don't try to make me."_

" _I won't."_

I wake up to the sing-songy voice of Effie Trinket. I'm not sure if she thinks I am already awake or if she's simply in need of company. I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. My head aches with every word Effie utters.

"Aw, what a lovely child," she says holding Gloria's picture.

It's as if one of Clove's knives stabs through my skull when she says "lovely" in the high pitch she uses.

"Effie, my head _really_ hurts. Would you mind not talking for a little…"

Effie's face falls into a wounded frown.

Sighing again, I close my eyes to block out the light in the room.

Hurting Effie's feelings upsets me. She's always seemed fragile to me. But what choice do I have? I'm doing the best I can.

"Oh," Effie says. "I can understand that. A bad headache."

I nod and then wish I hadn't when my head swims.

"I'll just leave you alone for a while," she adds.

_Alone._ I think. _Yes, I just need some time alone for this headache to pass._

Then I slowly start to untangle my legs from the sheets to settle down again, and I remember that Katniss was lying here with me when I fell asleep. All of a sudden the pain in my head doesn't even compare to the deep sense of sadness that surges through me, zapping whatever strength I have left.

"Effie, is Katniss gone?"

Effie's bright red lips pucker before she answers with more compassion in her voice than I thought had for us. "Yes, she left this morning."

I wish I'd told her goodbye.


	9. Home

Peeta:

"She looks like a mess," Effie scolds. "I can't wait to get my hands on her. Combing that hair will be my first priority. Then we'll get her some decent clothes. She's the daughter of two very wealthy victors, and it is nothing short of shameful for her to be dressed like that." Effie throws her hand out toward Gloria to indicate who she believes needs so much improvement, but I suspect she thinks I need almost as much. I know she thought I did only a few short years ago.

"I predict that she'll become someone very important, and she should be raised properly."

I refuse to let Effie's "parenting advice" interrupt my time with my daughter.

Gloria's been touching my face and talking to me in a cryptic way. At least she's talking. She wants to make sure that I'm okay. I remember Haymitch explaining that she was very upset about my episode. I wish Gloria hadn't seen me like that. At her age I'm sure I considered my father invincible, but Gloria understands how weak I am already. I hope she won't love me less for it.

"Peeta," Effie interjects after I've ignored her a little longer, "you haven't even introduced me to your little girl."

I shake my head and wave my hands to signal Effie to stop talking without actually telling her to stop.

As usual, she's oblivious. Not just ignoring me, but actually oblivious.

"Even though you've had a bad week, you need to properly introduce me to your daughter. She needs to learn proper etiquette, so set a good example. That's the best way for a father to teach a child."

Since my more subtle cues fail I rush over and yank Effie's arm, pulling her out the door as fast as I can. Her high heels click unevenly all the way there.

"What is wrong with you?" she asks indignantly as she frees her arm and pulls down on the hem of her business suit to straighten it. "I thought your episodes were never violent anymore. Do I need to call that doctor again, Peeta?"

"No! You need to stop telling Gloria that she's my daughter! She doesn't know that."

Effie gasps, "In all this time you've never told this child who she is? Why not?"

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair nervously. Effie's not going to understand my reasoning.

"Katniss and I decided it was better for her not to know until we'd made some decisions about who would raise her."

"That's ridiculous. My parents prepared me for greatness from the day I was born. Part of that is a child understanding her place in the world," she says bringing her hands to her hips.

"Her place?" I ask.

"She's the daughter of two victors, a very unusual station in life to say the least."

Shifting my weight from one foot to the other I slip my hands in my jacket pockets and look down. I hate to hurt Effie, but a father must protect his child.

"I know you mean well, but we don't want that for Gloria . We want her to just…be a child. That's one reason this decision's been so difficult."

Effie tilts her head curiously, and one of her golden curls falls lazily out of its ringlet shape.

I hear a soft knock at the door we just exited, interrupting our conversation. When I open the door I find Gloria looking up at me.

"Why you go?" she asks.

"I'm coming right back," I answer.

Gloria glances at Effie warily. Then she turns on her little heels and stomps back into the room.

"So rude!" Effie comments, "We have so much work to do, Peeta."

As I follow Gloria back into the visiting room I still can't believe that Effie just told her I'm her father! That information needed to come from Katniss and me. I hope Gloria didn't understand.

"You mad?" Gloria asks.

"No."

Smiling, I give her the little dolls that go with her dollhouse in an attempt to move her focus toward something else.

Gloria's face creases with doubt. She knows I'm lying. When am I going to learn to be honest? Gloria's a master at interpreting body language, a skill she probably developed as part of learning to communicate with her silent mother.

Fortunately for me she moves on to a new topic. "Wha's 'eh-a-kit?'"

"Etiquette is being nice to other people. Maybe sharing your toys with them?"

Gloria crosses her arms over her chest and wrinkles her nose.

I chuckle a little. Gloria's scowls would enrage Effie. We probably do need to work on minimizing them. I'm definitely going to have to stop laughing about them, but Gloria's next question makes me stop laughing.

"Who…who's yur li'l girl?"

My heart skips a beat or two.

Something deep inside me warns that she'll never trust me if I lie now only to tell her the truth later. Could I really blame her for that? What's the harm of telling her the truth? She might not even understand what I mean. Besides, I don't plan to allow her to live in ignorance of who I am forever, but I haven't talked to Katniss about this in a while. Even though Katniss need not admit to being Gloria's mother for me to admit that I'm her father, I wish we'd discussed what to tell Gloria before this moment came.

"You," I choke out. "You are my little girl." I take hold of a stray hair crossing her face and tuck it behind her ear. Her blue eyes sparkle, looking so much like Graham's did when he was especially happy.

"Okay," Gloria says in a cheerful matter-of-fact tone.

She takes the dolls out of my hands and puts them in the house, moving them from room to room. She talks as if she is one of the dolls, the mother I believe. I shudder, hoping I've made the right decision to tell her the truth. After a few minutes I conclude that it doesn't matter since Gloria still seems unaware that I'm her father. I decide to play dolls with her instead of worrying.

When I tell her 'goodbye,' Gloria begs to go with me as she usually does. It breaks my heart every single time.

I'm not sure Katniss experienced those same feelings the one time she saw this happen. She's probably put up too many walls for that

"Bu'…bu'…I'm yur li'l girl," Gloria sobs as she points her thumb against her chest frantically. "I wanna go, Pee-ta. Pwease!"

I can't take this anymore! This is just plain wrong.

Reaching down I pull Gloria into a hug I tell her, "Yes, you are my little girl. I'm coming back to get you soon." I kiss her salty cheek lightly and hug her tight.

When I let go of her I smooth her unruly hair and wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. "I promise."

Her sobs slow, but she's still taking deep uneven breaths as she tries to recover from the crying. She crawls into my lap and lays her head on my shoulder. I wonder if she will let go, but after a while I feel her little hands relax where they've been clinched against my chest. She's fallen asleep.

/

Katniss:

I spend all the time I can in the woods. If I could sleep there safely, I would. Haymitch went on a drinking binge as soon as we got home, and I had to go over to his house to pull him out of a pool of his own vomit. I stopped short of trying to pull him into the bathtub as Peeta would have done, but I used every towel I owned to wipe his skin and hair clean. Then I changed his clothes and washed the dirty clothes and towels.

That's how it is here, or at least how it was. The three of us treat the wounds that never heal, the ones most others will never see. Haymitch and I make sure Peeta stays safe. Haymitch and Peeta ensure that I get out of bed in the morning. Peeta and I make sure Haymitch doesn't drink himself to death and clean him up when he makes an attempt at it. But our survival team being without one member makes our interventions much less effective.

When Haymitch woke up he said, "I see you're still up and about. Impressive. I'm proud of you, Sweetheart. You thought any more about what you're going to do about your little girl?"

I shake my head and try not to burst into tears. Of course I've thought about her, but I still don't know what to do.

"I can't be a mother to her, Haymitch. Peeta can't help but be her a father to her, so I've mostly been sitting in the woods crying."

/

Peeta:

"Hello," I hear Katniss say. She sounds like she's been sleeping. I look at the clock. It's 2:00 PM there. Not good.

"I love you," I say, wanting those to be the first truly lucid words she hears me say since the episode.

"I love you, too," she says sleepily. "Are you feeling better?

"So much better. Embarassed, but better. What have you been doing? Any hunting yet?"

Talking on the phone feels unnatural. I wish I could just hug her, kiss her, hold her…

"I've been going to the woods. I don't hunt much, but Haymitch says he's proud of me."

"Why's that, besides the obvious?" I grin as I wait for her answer.

"Because I haven't taken to my bed yet like my mother would have."

I feel like Haymitch has just socked me in the stomach.

"Oh," I reply sadly. "I'm proud of you, too. Will you call me if you feel like doing that?" Everything I say sounds so awkward!

"I didn't say I didn't feel like it. I said he was proud of me because I hadn't done it."

I wince knowing I need to go home. This feeling of being pulled in two directions at once frustrates me so much. Why can't I just love them both?

"So, do you like Effie's place?" Katniss asks, lightening the mood.

"It's very formal," I laugh.

"I bet," Katniss adds dryly.

"You'd like how she's watching out for me though. She makes sure I eat, sleep, and use my silverware correctly."

"Good. I'd hate the think you were using your salad fork to eat dessert or something."

Katniss' voice starts to break down, and I know she's starting to cry. Now I really wish I could hold her.

"Did I make the right decision when I left you in the Capitol? I hope you don't feel like I abandoned you. I would never want to do that. I just," she starts crying so hard that I can't understand her well, "thought…you wouldn't…away from Gloria."

"Katniss," I say as gently as I can while still trying to be heard over her crying, "I don't feel abandoned; I just miss you."

"I miss you too. So much," she blurts out immediately as if I've given her permission to admit it by saying so myself. "I just don't want to pressure you to come home because I know she's important to you, too."

"She is. Both of you are."

I pause, not sure how to broach another discussion of what to do with Gloria.

"Every time I leave Gloria she begs to come with me. It's heartbreaking, Katniss. I…I…want to fix it."

I take a deep breath and wait for a response.

"How would you do that?"

"I could request to be her temporary foster parent," I say, my eyes closing spontaneously.

"You'd request?"

"Yes. Since I am actually Gloria's father the process is unnecessary, but Delly says this is a good way to be able to take care of Gloria full-time without accepting responsibility for raising her. She says they use relatives as temporary foster parents all the time, believing that it helps people decide what to do about placing a child long-term. The best part is that if I do this I can take Gloria away from the Capitol, even to District 12. We can be together. We can't actually live together unless you are a foster parent too, but we'd be closer than we are now."

"You do realize that Delly's in the business of manipulating people into raising children they don't feel qualified to raise don't you, Peeta?"

"She's in the business of helping children find their families," I snap. The words sound so bitter, so unlike how I usually talk to Katniss. I slow down. "This would be temporary. Really. We'll have time to decide for sure."

"But you'll eventually want to tell Gloria that you're her father. It would become permanent, I'm sure."

I sigh. "Yeah. About that, I don't have to tell her that. Effie already told her."

"What?" What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing. You know Effie. Everything happened by accident while she was telling me how to raise Gloria properly," I say sullenly. "I hate it that Gloria knows actually. She's getting old enough to understand that kids with parents don't usually stay in the orphans' home."

"So she calls you 'daddy' now?"

I think she's asking it facetiously, and she won't like the answer to her question.

"Sometimes. Apparently one of the older girls in the orphans' home taught her to say it."

"But you don't…stop her from calling you that?"

"I think that would hurt her, Katniss."

Another long pause follows. I wish I could see the look on her face because I don't know how Katniss is taking this news. I'm worried.

"She's your daughter too, and you are my wife. I love you," I continue. "I don't want to make this decision without you…"

"No, you want me to approve of the decision you've already made. Just do what you want, Peeta. That's what you are going to do anyway!"

And with that she hangs up the phone. Effie would certainly disapprove of her response, but I just feel ashamed that I caused it.

/

Katniss:

In the hours that follow hanging up on Peeta I sit in my rocking chair by the fire, a quilt thrown over me.

Peeta must have asked Haymitch to check on me because he stumbles through my front door later that night.

"How are you doing?" He asks.

"Not great. I'm hanging on by a thread actually, but I refuse to surrender."

Haymitch nods. "I'm proud of you, Sweetheart."

"Stop saying that." I glare at him.

Haymitch gives me a smirk and takes a swig of the liquor bottle in his hand.

I turn my attention back to the fire.

"Did Peeta tell you that she's calling him 'daddy' now?" I ask pulling my blanket down long enough to lean forward and bend my fingers into quotation marks when I say the word "daddy." Then I angrily replace the blanket and lean back against the rocking chair with a huff. I turn to Haymitch, waiting for him to respond.

"No, he mostly fretted about you. He loves you and the girl. He wants to make sure you are both safe and happy. It's a tough place for him."

"Don't try to make him sound so damn caring!"

Haymitch gives me a stern look.

"Oh, come on, Katniss. He is caring. The boy hasn't changed. He's just caring for someone else in addition to you. Jealous much?"

I give him a seething glare and then return my gaze to the fire.

"He could at least teach her to call him 'papa.'" I say under my breath.

"Maybe he enjoys the fact that she's given him a term of endearment and doesn't want to correct it."

I sigh and rock back and forth for a few minutes in an attempt to sooth my nerves. I shudder as my mind wanders to what it would be like for Gloria to call me "Mama." Poor little girl. I wish I could be her mama, that I could be a good mama.

"Tomorrow I'm getting sobered up," Haymitch announces suddenly.

"Right," I say sarcastically.

"Really. You kids are going to need me. All three of you. No better reason to cut back than people who need you," he says.

"I'm proud of you," I mimic.

"Stop saying that."

/

Delly:

When I arrive at the orphans' home I find Gloria playing on the playground, laying on her belly over a swing because that's the only way she can make it go back and forth all by herself.

Gloria's never met me, but her social worker tells her I'm going to take her to see Peeta.

"Go with Daddy?" she squeals as she stops the swing with her dangling feet.

"That's right," I confirm.

She stands up and grabs my hand, a wide grin on her face. The social worker shakes my other hand before Gloria and I walk out of the building. Gloria clutches a tattered doll with messy brown hair, and her shoes have holes at the toes. Her dress is getting threadbare over the elbows. Her nails are too long, and there is obvious dirt on her hands. Usually I would make sure a child got cleaned up and had newer clothes and shoes even if the orphans' home couldn't provide them, but this case presents unique challenges. More important matters than her appearance loom, like her privacy.

As Gloria and I take our seats on the crowded train car, her eyes dart all around. Then she lowers her gaze to her lap.

"You'll see him soon, dear," I reassure her.

After the other passengers are seated, I rise from my seat taking Gloria with me by means of holding her hand. We silently walk through several train cars with Gloria continuing to scan every face for Peeta. Finally, we reach a car that's completely empty except for one person who appears to be reading a newspaper.

"There he is," I whisper to Gloria.

Her brow creases, and she pulls back toward the car we just left. My experience with children tells me she's frightened. I put my arm around her shoulders and lead her forward. Not wanting to call Peeta's name, I move closer.

"Excuse me, sir. Do I seem familiar to you? I think we might have known each other when we were very young?"

Peeta recognizes my voice immediately and pulls the newspaper down enough to look over it.

Gloria jumps into Peeta's arms as soon as she sees him, crushing the newspaper between them. I laugh, and then catch myself. It would be better not to make noise. Even though Peeta did buy every ticket in this particular car someone could still walk through.

[Special thanks to Katnissinme who continues to Beta this story]


	10. Reunited

Peeta:

Gloria sleeps peacefully as I resettle her small body into the cushioned chair beside me. She looks so much like Katniss, but I've never seen Katniss sleep so peacefully. Perhaps that's because she's had so little peace in her life, but I still remember a relatively carefree and very young Katniss who jumped, ran, played and climbed trees. Her piercing eyes would occasionally stare down at me from the tree right outside the bakery's kitchen window while her father and Papa bartered. I'd smile and shake my head. How many other girls would climb a tree to stare into a bakery kitchen? Not any that I knew. Of course, I'd hoped she was climbing up there just to watch me but knew that was unlikely. She probably just liked the adventure or wanted to see bread being made.

Thinking about Katniss was starting to make me nervous because I knew she was frustrated with me, so I thumbed through the folder Delly gave me. It contained all the information that the orphans' home and Delly's orphan aid organization had compiled about Gloria and her mother. There wasn't much.

Some prison records…

"Name: Helena Robertson"

A photograph was imbedded in the text of the initial prison record. In it Helena had auburn-colored hair and green eyes. Her nose was dotted with freckles, and her skin was at least as fair as mine.

"Age: 26; Height - 5' 8"; hair: red; eyes: green; weight - 136 lbs; injuries: none; illnesses: none;

place of birth: Capitol City; Prisoner # 132451; security level: medium-high; "

I wonder if Gloria's mother knew she was carrying my child. I know other prisoners were aware of the presence of the victors in the prison. And did Gloria's mother think she was Gloria's mother or did she suspect that somebody else could be the mother, even Katniss?

"Charges: Treason against the Capitol; Conspiracy; assault with a deadly weapon on a Capitol official; Possession of illegal weapons."

She certainly sounds like someone we'd all liked to have met.

Gloria's mother's medical records from the hospital were dated after the war ended, during the time Katniss and I struggled to heal physically and emotionally.

I wonder what it would have been like to know about Gloria back then?

"Maternal Diagnoses: active labor; malnutrition; iron-deficiency anemia; protein deficiency; poorly healed closed fracture of the right arm - patient unable to provide further details regarding injury at this time; history of severe traumatic injury to the tongue ('avox')."

I guess even if you are carrying Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen's baby the Capitol still didn't feed you in prison, at least not very well. I wonder if they broke her arm also. Probably. I can only hope that Helena was treated just a little better because she carried Gloria

"Fetal Diagnoses: 36 weeks and 5 days gestation; intrauterine growth restriction; estimated weight by ultrasound = 4 lbs. 10 oz."

What was the Capitol going to do with Gloria?

I shiver.

She's ours now. We can take care of her and protect her because that's what we do in this family, protect each other.

/

Katniss:

I miss Peeta most at night. When he comes home I'll still be missing him at night because he won't be with me. My dreams are dark and scary even when they aren't terrifying. True rest is elusive.

_"Momma, please," I plead. My arms crossed over her knees, I drop my forehead to rest on them. "Prim's talking out of her head, and calling for…" I pause. It's probably better not to mention him. "Her fever's really high. Please, I don't know what to do. Help me."_

_Sounding so desperate unnerves me, and I'm weak too. Up until yesterday, I was nearly as sick as Prim. Miraculously, I'd recovered enough to be of some use to her today._

_This is my fourth appeal to my mother, pleading with her take care of my baby sister. She's our healer, and she refuses to care for anybody including her own daughter. Her lack of response only underscores my growing resentment of her._

_My mother stares at the fire._

_"At least tell me what to do!" I scream._

_"Katniss!" Prim calls weakly. "Katniss, please come back."_

_"What will be, will be," my mother whispers._

_"How can you say that? Go and look at her. See if you can do anything."_

_"I don't need to. Nothing I do will matter anyway," she mutters._

_"She needs you! If nothing else, comfort her. She needs you!"_

_"I can't imagine why she would."_

_I realize she's serious._

_Standing up and stomping my foot, I decide my efforts are futile. Prim's delirium continues, and she's calling for our father again. My time is probably better spent trying to comfort her._

_I open the door to gather fresh snow in a bowl because the water pipes are frozen. As the snow melts I wet a cloth to cover Prim's forehead. I'm not sure if I should wipe her off with the cloth or not. With the wind whirling outside and blowing through every crack in the house's walls, I wonder if it might make things worse._

_"I hate you," I mutter under my breath from behind my mother. She can't hear me, but I'm struck by the guilt I feel from even saying the words. Hating your own mother is an awful feeling._

_Prim's quiet when I go to her. I crawl in bed beside her and place the cloth on her head. She flinches but doesn't wake up._

_Sometimes I think it would be better not to love people. Then you wouldn't fear losing them, wouldn't mind when they shut you out, wouldn't hurt when you did inevitably them. Such ideas don't apply to Prim. I can't help but love Prim, but she's the last person I'm ever going to love like this. Love makes me feel weak and vulnerable. I need food, water, and shelter. I don't need love._

Peeta:

Gloria clutches my shoulder sleepily as a struggle to keep her upright against my chest while I talk on the phone. I've waited half an hour to even make this call and I'm using the phone outside the train station because I don't want to be seen by the other passengers who are delayed in their travels as well. It wouldn't be so bad to talk in the phone outside if it hadn't started pouring down rain about 10 minutes ago.

"Hello?" Katniss answers sleepily.

"Hey, Honey. I guess I woke you. Sorry. The train's been delayed, but I guess you assumed that. We won't be in until about 1 am they said. I'm so sorry."

Gloria starts to slip out of my arms and I raise my bad leg to try to catch her with my thigh as well as my arms. The motion upsets my already tenuous balance.

"No, don't worry about it," Katniss says. "Just be careful. Nobody's recognized you have they?"

I manage to keep Gloria from falling, but she opens her eyes slowly. My attempts to avoid falling or dropping her probably jostled her too much. If it weren't for the rain I'd have probably just sat her down on the ground for a minute.

"Daddy?" She says in a groggy voice.

My heart skips a beat. Katniss has never heard her call me that, but I suppose she was going to hear it soon anyway.

"Peeta, just be careful. See you soon, okay?" Katniss says much too quickly.

"Yeah, see you soon. I love you."

"Love you, too."

/

We finally make it to my house at quarter after one. Gloria, who's slept for almost the entire train trip, is suddenly full of energy.

"Eat!" She demands as she dances around the living room.

Well, at least she's happily famished instead of throwing a temper tantrum.

I check the cabinets and find them bare since nobody has lived here in some time. I check the fridge, but I'm not sure why since I seriously doubt anything edible would still be in there. We don't even use the one at our house that much because we still aren't used to reliable electricity yet.

When I open the fridge I'm suddenly overcome with gratitude. Katniss has left two plates, each with a dinner of stew, vegetables, and bread.

"Thought you might be hungry. See you in the morning." The note beside the plates reads.

Gloria shovels food into her mouth with her spoon as her eyes dart all around the kitchen. She's fascinated with even the smallest of details. As soon as she's finished eating she jumps up from the table and runs up the stairs. I follow her, smiling to myself. Exhaustion is starting to win out over delight though, and I know I'll have to sleep soon. I can never rest on trains, not after all the terrible places they've taken me over the years.

One by one Gloria grabs the door facing of each room upstairs with her tiny fingers and then peaks inside as I turn on the lights for her. When she's finished she looks up wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Where Katniss?" she asks innocently.

"Oh, she's at her house. She'll be here in the morning. In fact, if you go back to sleep she'll be here before you know it."

Gloria scowls and then tilts her head as if in deep thought for a three-year-old.

"Katniss not here?" she clarifies.

"No, but she'll be here tomorrow."

Gloria's expectation to see Katniss surprises me because I hadn't really emphasized that we'd be seeing her when we got to District 12.

"She's the one who left that food for us," I offer. "Wasn't that nice of Katniss? She was thinking of us."

Gloria's lips pucker, and she cuts her eyes off to the side. Then she sighs as if satisfied with Katniss' efforts even if she's not here with us. I anticipate the difficulties of trying to explain why Katniss doesn't live here. Now that I think of it, I told Gloria that Katniss was my wife and we lived in the same house long ago. No wonder Gloria's looking for Katniss. Kids must remember everything you say!

My head begins to feel light, and I know I have to sleep. Sleep deprivation can bring on my episodes, and trains can be triggers for flashbacks sometimes. I definitely don't want any of that when I'm trying to help my daughter settle into living here.

"Gloria, Daddy has to sleep. Okay? You need to sleep too. I was thinking this could be your room."

Gloria smiles and runs over to the bed and climbs in.

Great. She likes it. Maybe she'll sleep now.

I close my eyes to try to stave off the fuzzy thoughts exhaustion brings.

Then I hear her laughing and the loud squeaking of the bed springs. Looking up, I see my suspicions are confirmed. She's jumping on the bed! My mother would have beaten me for that. In fact, she did beat me for that at least once.

"Gloria! Don't do that. You'll fall."

Gloria just giggles and continues to jump, stretching out her arms as if she could reach the ceiling if she could only jump high enough.

I walk over to the bed and try to catch her, but she backs up toward the wall. All the rooms in the house have large beds, and I can't lean over far enough to get her without climbing onto the bed myself. So I sit down in the chair near the bed. Maybe it is better to let her jump and exhaust herself. Gloria keeps jumping and laughing, laughing and jumping. The blue blanket on the bed starts to gather around her feet as the jumping loosens it from where it was tucked under the mattress. Gloria starts singing the children's song and jumps to the rhythm of it. The next thing I know, I'm dozing off.

Katniss:

I wake up before dawn, having gotten only an hour of uninterrupted sleep. I spent the wee hours of the morning wondering what having Gloria and Peeta as my "neighbors" will be like. This is not what I want. I want my husband living in the same house with me. He could be, but I've been unwilling to sign the foster parent agreement.

"Peeta's coming home only to leave me. He wants to be my neighbor, not my husband!" I told Haymitch not long ago.

"No, he wants to be your husband. He wants to live with you, but he can't as long as he's Gloria's foster parent and you're not. You need to sign the papers, Sweetheart. They don't obligate you to anything long-term. The girl will never even know you signed them."

"No, I won't do it."

"You are being stubborn. You and Peeta have to try to work this out, and that's going to require at least some compromise," He added.

But what did Haymitch know about love, marriage, and children? What did he know about being a woman forced into motherhood? He should keep him opinions to himself.

In the pre-dawn light I dress in my hunting clothes and go downstairs to get a bite to eat before heading out the door with my bow and quiver. I can feel that today is going to be a great hunting day.

As I pass Peeta's house I see lights on in the kitchen, living room, and a bedroom upstairs. I felt sure they'd sleep in this morning. So I'd planned to come back from hunting and make them brunch. Rounding the kitchen window I hear a bang and a clatter that sounds like metal hitting the floor. The sound startles me.

In a fraction of a second I'm already imagining that Peeta's having an episode. After the severity of the last one, I privately vowed to keep a closer eye on him. After all, that's what Peeta and I do, protect each other. Protecting him during his episodes is certainly part of that now.

There's an even louder clatter so my walk from the backyard to the front becomes a run. Throwing the door open, I look around for Peeta and call his name. He's not in the living room, but when I wind my way through the living room furniture and into the kitchen I start to wonder how he could be in the house at all. The entire kitchen is in disarray with pots, pans, silverware, cooking utensils, an open suitcase and clothes everywhere. In the midst of all the disorder sits Gloria covered in flour which she's currently dumping from a one-pound bag onto the floor.

"Katniss!" She calls as she raises her flour covered hands into the air. She jumps up and runs to me. I pat her on the back lightly, and a cloud of flour puffs up into my face. Just then I hear the sound of Peeta's uneven footsteps in the hallway upstairs. When he makes it to the landing, and I can see him I could burst with happiness. I missed Peeta so much.

"Katniss, I'm so sorry. I fell asleep."

Peeta runs his fingers through his blonde curls making them look even messier than they did before. He slowly descends the stairs as he does when he's tired and wants to make sure his bad leg doesn't give out on him unexpectedly.

"I told you that you wouldn't have to do anything like this," he says gesturing subtly with his hand toward the flour covered child who's still holding onto my leg.

"Don't worry about it."

I look over into the kitchen.

"I suppose you might need some help with this kitchen."

Peeta turns, sees his full destruction of his kitchen, and gasps.

"What happened here?" he asks rhetorically.

I answer, "Gloria happened."

/

Katniss:

That night Haymitch offers to watch Gloria so Peeta and I can spend some time alone together. I make Peeta dinner, but when he arrives we let the food get cold while we rekindle our passion for each other. Afterwards we lie quietly in bed, and I feel calmer and closer to him than I have in some time.

Maybe he senses it, and that's why he starts to talk about things he's never put into words before.

"I always thought I'd have children someday, but I never imagined it would happen this way." He's staring at the ceiling, not making any eye-contact at all. "Whatever they did to me to make Gloria, I don't remember it. No matter how 'clinical' it was or wasn't, it still sickens me."

His vulnerability is palpable, and an ache starts to build in my chest as he continues. So he does still think about this. I thought maybe I was the only one who did.

"There was this woman at the prison. I think she was a nurse or something. She was the one who usually gave me the venom, but she wasn't in charge. She claimed to be a rebel spy, but I didn't know that for sure until she helped us during the rescue. She was killed right before we took off in the hovercraft."

I swallow hard and suddenly wish we weren't lying here in bed together. I feel too exposed, both literally and figuratively, to be having this conversation. You'd think I'd be used to feeling exposed by now.

"She probably knew about it. In fact, she's probably the kind of person they would have assigned to get what they needed from me to make Gloria. And if she was assigned to such a thing, then I'm sure she was very clinical about it no matter what means they used, because that's how she was about most everything at the prison."

I stay still and listen, despite my growing anxiety. I wonder if he really believes that or if he's just trying to make himself feel better. Maybe Peeta finds it easier to believe that someone who was sort of looking out for him betrayed him with good intentions. For me the whole situation seems sinister no matter how I imagine it.

"One day, when I woke up from being drugged, I could tell that they hadn't given me any venom by how I felt, and I asked her what happened. She was very quiet, but she told me not to worry. 'Everything is okay,' she said. 'They won't hurt you today.' I guess she had a funny definition of 'hurt.' Then again, she was very focused on my survival, so she probably wouldn't have been all that concerned with the collection of some reproductive material because that wouldn't have threatened my life."

He reaches for my hand, grasping it tightly.

_He_ makes it sound clinical. That must make him feel better as well. Whatever. It's still wrong.

"I've never been sorry that she died because even though she saved my life at least once, she also tortured me by being the one who actually injected the venom."

He pauses before continuing.

"Now I wish I could ask her what happened. I actually think she'd tell me the truth, and I don't think I'd blame her if she was involved. That doesn't mean that the things she did don't bother me because they do, but before I found out about Gloria this woman was never a part of my nightmares. Now she is."

Wow, he wouldn't blame her? I guess that's my Peeta, ever forgiving. I can't forgive. I wish none of this had ever happened, but that would mean wishing Gloria had never been born. Somehow that feels wrong also. I feel numb, like my whole body has fallen asleep the way my legs do when I sit cross-legged on the forest floor for too long.

Peeta's quiet, closing his eyes as he strokes the back of my hand slowly.

"What do you think that means?" he whispers after a few more moments of silence.

I feel inadequate to answer, but I try.

"I think it means you are trying to come to terms with how our daughter came into this world," I tell him. God knows I am trying to do that too! I'm glad Peeta's talking about a similar struggle. Although I hate to see him feeling like this, at least I know we have some common ground.

He keeps staring at the ceiling. His fingers continue to stoke my hand.

"How do you feel about…" he struggles to get the words out, choking over the last few "…what they did to you?" Peeta turns on his side toward me, still holding my hand.

I could take the rest of the night to explain that, and I'm not sure that I want him to know exactly how I feel. But this is Peeta. He won't judge me, and he'll probably want to help me.

"I feel angry. So angry that when I got home to District 12 I went out into the woods and just screamed for an hour. They had no right. You'd been so badly hurt in the arena, and I knew you might die even after we won. All I wanted to do was wake up and make sure you were all right, but they kept knocking me out with their drugs. I used to think they did it to control me and keep me quiet. Now I wonder if part of the reason was to collect those eggs." I notice that I've brought my free hand to my belly. "Cinna told me that Haymitch argued with them and convinced them not to change my shape with surgery to suit their tastes, you know, like make my breasts larger or something."

Peeta kisses my shoulder softly. "I'm so glad they didn't do that. I like you just the way you are."

I smile sadly, "But this is worse. Nobody can see what they did to me, but they took away my choices. If Beetee's right they pumped my body full of hormones and cut me open to take things from me," I say with a shiver.

I hear Peeta let out a slight whimper at the thought of what I've just said, as if none of it had hit him fully until just now. I feel his forehead rest against the back of my neck, and he pulls his arm around me protectively.

"No matter how much I love Gloria, I want you to know that none of that will ever be okay with me, Katniss," he pauses, apparently hesitant to continue. Then he does. "But as bad as all of that is, I still believe that loving Gloria can transcend it."

[I'd love to know what you think, please review! :) ]


	11. Daily Bread

Peeta:  
The clock reads 3:10 am, and I feel vaguely sleepy but am having trouble winding down. Gloria only fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago. She’s been mentioning people’s names, and I think they might be people she misses. One time she woke up, called for her “Mommy” and then glanced around the room with a confused look on her face. She screamed frantically for me after that, and fortunately I happened to be sitting in the chair in her room reading when it happened. I think Gloria’s just had too many changes in her life in the last year, and I can’t imagine being only three years old, and grieving the kinds of losses she has already endured.  
I look at the clock again. 3:15. Before Gloria came into our lives I’d have been up in 2 hours baking. That won’t be happening today, unless I never go to sleep at all. I sigh.  
Opening one of the kitchen cabinets I take hold of the bottle of pills that Dr. Aurelius strongly encouraged me to keep taking after that terrible episode in the Capitol. There’s a pill I’ve been taking since the war that I take in the morning also, but this one for nighttime is probably the more important of the two right now because it has a calming effect in addition to helping to prevent episodes. I hate it because it makes me very sleepy, and at this late hour I’m afraid if I take it, I won’t be able to wake up in the morning. If Gloria wakes up, I might not hear her right away. She seems to wake up about 6 am no matter what time she goes to sleep!  
My thoughts turn to my destroyed kitchen a few days ago. Katniss and I worked hard to clean it, but what bothered me most about what happened to the kitchen was that Gloria had found the knives amongst the silverware that day. She’d lined them up neatly on the floor, probably enjoying playing with something that she knew was forbidden to touch. When I told Haymitch how guilty I felt about her finding things that could have hurt her he helped me “Gloria proof” the kitchen. For someone who owns a house that could be condemned as a health hazard, he possesses surprising organizational skills.  
I placed the pill bottle down on the table, collapsed into a chair, and started tracing the grain of the wooden tabletop with my finger while I continued to debate whether it was too late to take the medicine or not. What’s best for us? Risking me being crazy or chancing being too sleepy to take care of my daughter? I’m probably being hard on myself.  
I told Delly about the kitchen when she called to see how we were all doing, and she told me “Just try to keep things safe for her as much as you can. Kids get into trouble, Peeta. Do your best to prevent problems. I know you will do that,” she said.  
But I can’t help but beat myself up. I feel inadequate. Katniss might be right in her hesitancy to raise this little girl. Maybe we aren’t ready for all this. I start to tear up a little because I don’t want to think about being unable to keep Gloria. Why am I so upset? I can do this, right? I’ve always wanted to be a father. Maybe I’m just tired.  
Standing, I put the pill bottle back in the cabinet where it is safely out of reach of Gloria and lay down on the sofa to try and get whatever rest I can. 

Katniss:  
I answer the door to find Peeta and Gloria have arrived a few minutes early for breakfast. The three of us eat most of our meals together, usually breakfast here and dinner at Peeta’s house. I’m often in the woods at lunchtime.  
Gloria’s examining the remains of Buttercup’s latest kill with a disgusted look on her face. It appears to have been a bird before Buttercup got a hold of it.  
“Buttercup has certainly become a mighty hunter lately,” Peeta points out.  
I notice the dark circles under his eyes as soon as he looks up.  
“Tired?” I ask him.  
“Yeah, a little. And I miss you.”  
I knew that, but hearing him say it tugs at my heart.  
Sign the damn papers, a voice inside me orders.  
But the fear wins, as usual. Haymitch is wrong. This is not about stubbornness; it’s about fear. If I sign the papers I’m declaring myself Gloria’s mother, at least her foster mother. I can’t do that, but as it stands now I may be failing Peeta. There appears to be no way to win. Inside my head, I vow to help Peeta more as I reach for his hand.  
Then, catching sight of Gloria’s outstretched arm, I kick the dead bird off the porch before she has a chance to touch it. Some dried blood and feathers remain. Gloria shakes her head and wrinkles her nose.  
“Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on with that old cat. He’s been so lazy about hunting for years. Now all of a sudden he hunts when I can afford to feed him? One more reason to hate him…he makes no sense.”  
Peeta raises his finger to his lips with a wink and a soft smile, to encourage me to be quiet. Gloria loves Buttercup.  
Once we settle down to breakfast Gloria uses her spoon to scoop eggs and oatmeal into her mouth with her usual speed. Then she teases the cat by pulling a piece of ribbon across the floor, and Buttercup obliges by chasing the ribbon dutifully. Unfortunately, the little game they are playing reminds me of Prim and how much I miss her, and I feel tears coming to my eyes. At least Gloria doesn’t look like Prim.  
“Katniss, I’m going to take the extra baking pans to my house today if that’s okay with you. I’m hoping to get more baking done in the next few days” Peeta says.  
I shrug, turning so he doesn’t see the emotions flitting across my face.  
“Fine with me.”  
Although it actually upsets me to see any more of Peeta’s possessions leave our home, he does need his baking pans. Opposing him on sentimental and symbolic grounds would be petty.  
Peeta starts pulling pans out of several of the lower kitchen cabinets while we talk about our plans for the day, but then he stops abruptly.  
“Katniss, did you put this here?” Peeta asks pointing to a little pile of…something.  
“No, of course not,” I answer. “What is it anyway?”  
“Dried up bacon?” he speculates. “There’s some more over there. Maybe Buttercup…”  
Peeta looks puzzled, and I know my suspicions will break his heart. I’ve been a hungry child, hungrier than Peeta, and know the uncertainty that brings.  
When will I eat again? Will I eat again?  
“Buttercup doesn’t open cabinets,“ I say.  
He still stares at me.  
I look over at Gloria and then turn sadly back to Peeta.  
“You think Gloria did it?” he asks.  
“Who else? She’s hiding food, probably to make sure she always has enough.”  
I start opening more of the lower cabinet doors and find some of the table scraps I usually give Buttercup hidden in another cabinet. No wonder the old cat is hunting. Now that I think about it, he’s been pawing at these cabinet doors as well.  
“I make sure Gloria has plenty to eat,” Peeta says defensively. “Even at the orphans’ home I brought her food. Why would she think she needs to hide food?”  
“Maybe she hasn’t always had enough. We don’t really have any concept of what her life was like before we knew her.” I keep my voice quiet, so Gloria doesn’t overhear us.  
Peeta stands up and starts to walk over to Gloria.  
I follow him, stopping him by placing my hand on his arm.  
“Don’t mention it, Peeta. Trust me. Just don’t,” I warn with a desperate tone in my voice.  
He turns back to me.  
“I wouldn’t talk to her about it until you are sure of what you are going to say,” I add. “I think it might embarrass her, maybe even shame her.”  
Peeta starts walking toward Gloria again, and for a moment I think he’s going to ignore my advice.  
“Gloria,” he says. “I want to show you my studio before we go back to our house and bake.”  
Gloria jumps up from the floor, making buttercup pounce to try to follow the ribbon she’s still holding.  
Peeta guides her up the stairs.  
A sigh escapes me. The thought of my daughter being hungry like I was, like Prim was, makes my knees weak. I lean up against the wall and look at the little pile of bacon in the cabinet. Buttercup saunters over and gives it a sniff, but I shoo him away before he can sample it.  
Haymitch:  
I give Katniss’ front door a quiet knock and then walk inside. Peeta and the girl are outside, so I know she’s alone.  
“Hey, Sweetheart,” I greet her when I see her sitting in her rocking chair by the fire. She’s sewing something, I think. “How’s ‘Little Jay’ doing?”  
“Please stop calling her that,” Katniss asks.  
“It’s just a nickname, Sweetheart. She just looks so much like you.”  
Katniss gazes up at me imploringly. I recognize the look in her eyes, the one she gets when something truly troubles her.  
“You okay?” I ask.  
“Gloria’s hiding food, Haymitch. She thinks she’ll go hungry.”  
Katniss lays her sewing project down on her lap, places her hands on the arms of the chair and starts to rock.  
I sit down in the chair beside her. Instantly, I understood. Children in the Seam went hungry almost as soon as they were weaned, sometimes before that if their mother was particularly malnourished. Everyone knew that hungry cry, a baby just learning the meaning of hunger. Hunger would plague them the rest of their lives on and off. Even when food could be found, there were those “hollow” days when no matter how much you ate, you still couldn’t escape the feeling of hunger.  
From a young age both Katniss and I understood the distress of not knowing where our family’s next meal would come from. While still a child herself Katniss assumed responsibility for providing for her family. I thought of my younger brother and how many times I had sneaked food onto his plate, just so I didn’t have to watch him suffer and hear him cry.  
“She’s not going to go hungry,” I tell her gruffly. “That girl will never go without.”  
I’m probably trying to reassure myself as well as Katniss. I wouldn’t be able to watch Gloria waste away and cry like my brother did during those cold long winters many years ago. I can’t abide the thought of Peeta and Katniss watching it either or going hungry themselves. Never again. I’ll fight to my last breath so that it never happens again!  
“I don’t think Peeta understands,” Katniss says as she brushes a few tears from her cheeks and watches the flames.  
“No, I don’t expect that he would. I know the boy went hungry at times. But he’s never felt the responsibility to feed a child before, never known the fear of being unable to do so, and never lived in a home without a crumb of bread. I have, Katniss. I understand.”  
She scowls at me, but she knows I’m right. The scowl fades into a melancholic expression. I lean forward on my elbows.  
“What are you sewing?”  
“A bag for Gloria. I thought she could keep bread in it. So…so she’ll always have something to eat that is just for her.”  
Katniss’ sewing skills in no way rival her archery ones, but I see that in addition to sewing the bag itself she’s embroidered small flowers on the fabric that forms the front of it. My mother used to embroider flowers like those on the baby clothes she made for people to earn extra money.  
“I can’t do this, Haymitch,” Katniss says mournfully. “I can’t be her mother.”  
“Sweetheart, look at what you are doing for her. Do you really think anybody else would do better? You understand her, Katniss. Peeta needs you, and Gloria needs both of you. Don’t you get it? You already are Gloria’s mother. All you have to do is admit that. You loved Peeta, but you wouldn’t admit it for so long. Do you really want to make that same mistake again? It costs you so much the first time.”  
Tears are rolling down her cheeks now.  
“Prim,” she whispers.  
“She’s not Prim, and you’re not a child anymore. This is different. You won’t have to do this alone. You have Peeta.”  
///  
I’m laughing my ass off. The boy doesn’t think any of this funny at all, but it is.  
“Get down from there, Gloria!” Peeta tells her for about the tenth time, but I think he’s starting to realize that she can’t. She’s sitting on a branch of the red maple tree that’s in my front yard.  
Gloria giggles and sings nonsensical songs. Then she folds her arms to resemble wings and flaps them as if she’s a bird.  
Peeta gasps when she lists just a little from taking her arms off the branch, losing her balance but regaining it quickly.  
“Gloria,” he begs. “Please get down. You’re scaring me.”  
She looks down sympathetically. I have to say, the child has Peeta’s way with people at times. She clearly doesn’t like upsetting him, but she has an adventurous streak also. She can’t help but follow her free-spirited nature.  
“I’m a bird, Daddy. See.”  
She flaps her “wings” again, trying to reassure him that she’s fine.  
“Birds hop around on the ground sometimes. Why don’t you try that?”  
Gloria grins, and I can tell she’s not subscribing to that idea regardless of how much she loves Peeta.  
Peeta turns to me, runs his fingers through his hair and then scrubs his face with his hand nervously.  
“I can’t climb that tree. She’s going to break her neck,” he laments.  
“Ah, I don’t think so. Her mother climbed every tree in the district when she was a kid.”  
“Well, I would have broken my neck climbing that high.”  
I chuckle, “Maybe.”  
“Where’d she get a crazy idea like this anyway?” Peeta asks.  
“Kids don’t need any inspiration for crazy ideas. Those come naturally. That picture you painted of Katniss in a tree that you have hanging in your dining room might have sparked something though.”  
Peeta looks defeated.  
Just then a real bird flies into the tree, and Gloria lets out a screech.  
“Down, Daddy! Want down!” She suddenly screams. The bird hops from branch to branch. Gloria stays still despite her fear.  
“Down!” she says again, starting to cry.  
Peeta turns to me, eyes filled with panic.  
“Calm down, boy. She hasn’t budged. She’s just afraid.”  
Peeta’s just not himself, much too serious and nervous. He seems unable to deal with this situation.  
“Oh, Gloria,” I say. “That bird’s a heck of a lot more afraid of you than you are of him. Give him a minute, and he’ll fly off.”  
She watches, quite bravely for a three-year-old. The bird tweets and then raises his wings before flying away.  
“Bird’s pretty,” Gloria points out.  
Peeta’s still looking at her, a terrified expression on his face.  
“You’ve got to calm down, boy. Things are going to scare her, and she’s going to cry. That’s just what little kids do.”  
“How do you know so much about little kids?”  
“I did have a much younger brother, you know,” I answer. A few years ago I wouldn’t have mentioned my brother at all. The grief was too fresh even after more than twenty years, but now I could at least point out that he was once a part of my life without an emotional collapse that leads me to spend the evening with a bottle. I hope one day that Katniss can mention Prim without the kind of emotional collapse she had yesterday. Peeta had to come inside and carry her to bed, and that was after I’d spent an hour trying to calm her down. This morning she apparently went out into the woods as usual. I suppose Katniss is out there looking for peace as much as game.  
Peeta nods, apparently accepting my expertise on the behavior of little kids.  
“So what are we gonna’ do?” he asks.  
“Wait ‘til Katniss comes back.” I look up into the sky, gauging the time. “She should be along soon if she follows her usual habits.”  
“Oh my word! How did she get up there?” The unmistakable voice of Effie Trinket trills from behind us.  
Effie arrived yesterday afternoon. She said she wanted to visit to see Gloria, but she guiltily asked if she could stay with me.  
“Do you think Peeta and Katniss will think it’s improper?” she asked when I helped her take her suitcase from the train station to my house.  
“I don’t think they will think much of anything about it. We’re both adults,” I replied.  
“Isn’t it obvious? She flew up there,” I answer Effie sarcastically before I’m even turned around all the way to look at her.  
Effie gives me a glare and shakes her head.  
“Get her down, Peeta,” Effie orders.  
Peeta doesn’t explain that Gloria’s up too high for him to reach or that his leg won’t allow him to climb the tree.  
“I’ll get her down,” Katniss’ voice comes from behind us, as she appears on the path carrying her bow, arrow, and a predictably empty game bag.  
In seconds Katniss shimmies up the tree and navigates the branches to reach Gloria.  
Gloria beams and reaches her arms out to her, flapping her “wings.”  
“I’m a bird,” she says sweetly to Katniss.  
“I see that.” Katniss replies with a small smile.  
I’ve noticed that attention from Katniss usually makes Gloria extremely happy. It’s as if Gloria knows that the key to securing her place in Peeta and Katniss’ lives is to convince Katniss to love her. I find Gloria’s attempts to charm Katniss both amusing and heartbreaking.  
I wish I could just tell the child that Katniss already loves her. If Katniss didn’t love her she wouldn’t be so afraid of not being a good enough mother to Gloria in the first place.  
With Gloria’s arms tightly wrapped around her neck, Katniss descends from the tree, branch by branch, and when she reaches the lower branches Peeta raises his arms to take Gloria from her. Once he’s handed Gloria to me, he goes back to gently hold Katniss’ hand while she jumps out of the tree.  
///  
Katniss:  
Peeta’s talking to her so soothingly, so compassionately. I love him so much.  
“Everybody has enough to eat at my house and at Katniss’ house. You, Katniss, Buttercup and me. There’s no need to hide food because there’s always enough.”  
I raise my folded hands to my lips and keep listening, hoping what he says will be true. Even though I want to run out of the room, my feet stay firmly planted on the floor.  
Peeta looks at me, his tired eyes full of love. He turns back to our daughter and gives her two small baskets both of which contain several bread rolls and two small apples.  
“These are yours now, Gloria. One is for our house, and one is for Katniss’ house. We’re going to keep bread and fruit in them all the time. You can get what you want to eat whenever you want. Okay?”  
Gloria’s blue eyes move slowly from the baskets, to Peeta, and then to me.  
I relax my arms to hang down by my sides, not wanting to look worried in front of her.  
Peeta seizes the opportunity while she’s looking at me. “Katniss made something for you,” he explains.  
He nods to me, reminding me of what I’m supposed to do. I take a hesitant step to the kitchen drawer and pull out the bag I’ve made.  
Peeta guides Gloria by placing his hand on her back, and she takes a few steps to meet me.  
I smile as I try to blink back a few tears. Holding back my emotions seems impossible lately. Peeta sees that I can’t follow through with what we’d agree I’d say. I never was good with words.  
Gloria’s focused on the bag in my hands.  
Peeta puts his hand on her shoulder and takes the bag from me gently.  
“Katniss made this bag for you also. You can put the bread or fruit in it anytime you want, and you can carry it with you anywhere you go.”  
Gloria’s eyes dart up to mine. I’m openly crying now.  
Peeta told me that it would be alright if I got emotional.  
“It matters more that you are there and supporting her than it does if you get upset.”  
Part of me thought he wanted me here to support him, but now I see what he meant. I needed to be a part of discussing Gloria’s fears.  
She looks from one of the baskets to the other. Then she quickly reaches for one of the apples in the basket and stuffs it into the bag. She looks intently at my face and then Peeta’s as if she’s checking for our responses, wondering if what she is doing is really going to be acceptable to us.  
Is this really mine? Her eyes seem to ask.  
I nod my head at her reassuringly.  
As Peeta pulls the draw string to show her how it works Gloria returns her gaze to the bag. She plays with the string with her nimble fingers. Then he opens the bag so she’ll see how to do that also, and I can see the small muscles of her face form a smile even though she’s not looking at me. She places one of the rolls from the other basket into the spot where she’s removed the apple.  
Then she puts her palm on top of the apple that’s inside the bag. Maybe she’s trying to make sure it’s still there. As quiet sob escapes my throat, and Gloria glances up when she hears it. She looks at the baskets again, glancing from one to the other. Without a word, she picks up a roll and raises her arm to offer it to me.  
My eyes grow wide as I see what she’s doing. She’s offering me bread. My whole body weakens as I realize that her generosity rivals her father’s. I open my mouth to speak, but my lips only quiver. I look at Peeta, who nods nervously from behind Gloria’s line of vision.  
I reach out and take the roll from her tiny hand.  
“Thank you,” I choke out.  
With a satisfied smile, Gloria carries the bag back to where she’d been playing the ribbon game with Buttercup. She plops down on the floor, puts the bag in her lap, and picks up the ribbon.  
Peeta takes a few steps forward to catch me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest and squeeze my eyes closed to let the large tears brimming in my eyes fall. He brushes my hair to one side a moment later and then pulls me away from him just enough to kiss my cheek. That’s when I see that the boy with the bread is crying as well, and I tighten my arms around him.

[AN: Special thanks to my wonderful beta Katnissinme and Loueze who I consider my "Plot Advisor" - you are both appreciated]


	12. Parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you ask me, Peeta bears most of the responsibility and is doing most of the work while Katniss enjoys the delights of parenthood. But the kid knew that was the deal when he brought Gloria home without giving Katniss much of a say on the matter." - Haymitch

**Katniss:**

Approaching the door to Peeta's house, I wonder if I should knock. It's technically my house also. Technically this is _our_ house, just as my house is also Peeta's. However, this house is Gloria's _only_ house. Gloria merely visits me. So do I knock because this is Gloria's house, or do I just walk right inside because it is mine?

I decide to just walk inside because, after all, Gloria is only three.

The house is noisy and in a state of disarray. Peeta's cooking and talking on the phone, laughing loudly.

"Hi, Katniss. Wanna see?" Gloria says as she beams up at me and holds up a little bowl full of melting snow that's dripping steadily onto the floor because she's holding it unevenly.

"Oh, snow. Yes, it's pretty." I take her arm gently and lead her towards the door, "but let's just take that over here because I think that we are getting water all over the floor." Gloria looks a little disappointed. "It is very pretty." I reassure her. She smiles and takes off running. Gloria rarely walks anywhere. I'm relieved I haven't upset her and start to wipe up the floor.

Peeta's finished talking on the phone by the time I make it to the kitchen. He greets me warmly with a kiss before turning back to the stove to finish preparing dinner. Whatever he's making smells wonderful. He starts babbling about something that happened when he and Gloria visited Haymitch earlier in the day, but I interrupt him. I've discovered something, and once I found out, I knew I had to talk to Peeta about it.

"I think we need to sit down and talk," I tell him. I see Peeta slowly lower the spoon he's holding so that it comes to rest on a plate beside the stove.

"Sure," he says casually as he wipes his hands and sits down at the kitchen table. "What's on your mind?"

I sit opposite him and notice the dark circles underneath his worried eyes.

My jaw clinches, mostly because I'm so concerned.

"I know you aren't taking your medicine," I tell him.

What little color he has drains from his face. He blinks a few times, very quickly.

"The new bottles arrived from the pharmacy in the mail yesterday, and I brought them over. That's when I saw that old bottle is almost full," I explain.

"I take one of them all the time and the other one when I can," he admits.

"When you can?" I say, my irritation rising. "What does that mean?" How could he take risks when it comes to staying well with Gloria here with us?

"Daddy! Spider! Come here!" Gloria screams, running away from where she was playing and grabs onto my leg for comfort.

Peeta quietly grumbles with frustration, but he gets up and throws the harmless spider out the back door. "It's gone now," he tells her.

"What do you tell your Daddy, Gloria?" I ask her.

"Thank you," she says quietly before skipping back to her toys.

Peeta sinks into one of the kitchen chairs, noticeably deflated from his previously jovial mood. Perhaps I should have chosen at better time or way to share my concerns, but I never could find the right words to say or the right time to say them in any situation. It's a wonder that silver-tongued Peeta could ever find me attractive or interesting.

"Peeta" I start again, before the silence grows awkward between us. "I'm just worried. Tell me why you're not taking your medicine".

"The one I'm having trouble taking is the one that makes me very sleepy," he explains as he places his elbow on the table and rests his cheek in his open hand.

"But you take that one at night when you are supposed to be trying to sleep anyway," I frown.

Peeta raises his eyes to look at me, and I can see he is starting to lose patience. "Trying would be the key word there, Katniss."

He sounds so irritable and unlike himself.

"So you aren't sleeping much?"

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing as if he can't believe I'd ask that question. When I don't respond he begins to explain, but I get the impression that he feels he shouldn't need to explain.

"No, of course not. I miss you. Gloria doesn't go to sleep until the wee hours of the morning most nights, and I can't take that medicine so late. I'll never wake up if she needs me, and I have to be _awake_ in the morning to take care of her. I want to be a good father, and I can't do that if I can't keep my eyes open."

I've been so angry at discovering Peeta's "irresponsibility" since discovering that he's not taking his medicine. I thought he just didn't like the way it made him feel. I'd never really considered that he might have other seemingly valid reasons for not taking it.

"Katniss, you don't know what it's like…"

Suddenly I felt myself becoming angry at the thought that I don't understand what it's like to take medicine.

"Don't tell me I don't know what it's like to have to take medicine that you don't want to take because you know that I do!"

Peeta had been the one who insisted that I talk to Dr. Aurelius when he first came back to District 12 after the war. He was the one who encouraged me to take the medicine Dr. Aurelius prescribed, and most days he was the one who physically put the pills in my hand along with a glass of water and watched me take it. Refusing was a battle I didn't have the energy to fight at the time. I only expected the same kind of compliance from Peeta.

Peeta covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. Maybe he had a headache. I hoped that didn't indicate an impending episode.

"No, honey. I didn't mean that, and I realize you know about taking medicine. But you don't know what it's like to try to care full-time for a three-year-old who doesn't sleep. You don't know what it's like to take this particular medicine either. It just zaps all my strength and makes my thinking fuzzy. Sometimes that's not so bad, but with Gloria here I have to be a hundred percent all the time. She's so _active_."

"And you think by risking an episode you'll keep yourself a hundred percent? I can assure you that you were about zero percent during your last episode in the Capitol. You forgot who Gloria was for a while, Peeta! And by the way, I do happen to know a little bit about trying to take care of a child alone. I did it when I was still a child."

I sit down, breathe out slowly and try to control my own rising emotions. I don't mean to hurt him, but I'm terrified of him falling into another episode like the last one. It left him so sick for days and scared me so badly. I haven't forgotten how it scared Gloria either. Leaning over the table, I take his cold and clammy free hand in both of mine.

At my touch Peeta opens his eyes and looks at me. Smiling sympathetically I rub his wrist with the fingers of one of my hands while still firmly holding his hand with the other.

"What else is bothering you? There's more, isn't there?" I ask him.

"I'm afraid you don't want to know."

"I do, Peeta. Please tell me."

He looks down, so much so that I can't see his face and the words are muffled when he answers my question.

"Katniss, since they messed up my mind, I've never wanted to be normal again more than I do now."

Avoiding the self-centeredness that usually leads me to dwell on how I'm the reason for the damage his mind suffered. I force myself to focus on Peeta.

"I don't want anyone to think I can't take care of Gloria. I'm so afraid that someone will take her away from me," he admits.

I feel my chest tighten as I silently vow to tell him what an amazing job I think he's doing of taking care of Gloria more often and to help him in ways that won't make him feel inadequate.

But none of that will ultimately be of any use to him if I'm not honest with him when I think he is making a mistake, like not taking his pills.

Unaware of the intensity of my inner thoughts, Peeta continues his confession.

"I need help, Katniss," he says, his heartbreak over having to tell me this obvious. "For her sake, I have to tell you that I do."

He's still looking down. He puts his other elbow on the table and rests his face in his open hands in one fast motion. He looks like he feels ashamed.

"That's okay, everybody needs help sometimes."

/

I look over to his house at night, I mean, our house. I can see his bedroom window from mine. It's open just a little even in winter. I still don't understand why he does that, but I miss it. I miss him. My bedroom window hasn't been opened in a while because Peeta's not here, and it's expanded with the colder weather. Still, when I decide to pull it up as hard as I can, it opens just a crack. Now my window is like his.

I wonder if she's sleeping? Is he sleeping? What about the nightmares? Are they still haunting him? Mine trouble me deeply, and I wish he could hold me. But I'm not even sure it's right to ask him to hold me, and I certainly wouldn't want to tell him what happens in my nightmares lately.

_I hear her crying, and I stumble around the house in the dark trying to find her. I'm better, but still so sick. I can't think at night when my fever rises._

_The three of us had been so happy, but that was before people started getting sick._

" _Prim. Where are you?" I call, clutching the banister of the staircase. I'm so weak that I end up dropping down to the stairs. Maybe she'll answer me, and I won't have to take a single extra step to find her._

_Then the emptiness of Peeta's absence hits me, taking my breath away. I close my eyes and lean my head against my arm, which still holds the banister loosely._

_That voice crying for me can't be Prim's. The voice belongs to my daughter, Gloria._

_I start to cry as I wonder how I can go to my little girl. She keeps forgetting her father is dead. I can't listen to her ask me for him or tell her again that he's not coming._

_The illness is the one from 13 that killed so many there and left so many others without the ability to have children. Nobody was prepared for the devastation it brought District 12, or Panem in general._

_I look down at the scars on my hands, not just the ones from the fire but the ones from the pox that the illness brought. They're mostly healing now, and only the scars remain. Gloria's skin is still dotted with them, but my little girl is getting better. I think she'll live._

_As Peeta got sicker he stopped eating. It started because his mouth was so sore, but then he realized how much more food was left for me and Gloria when he didn't take any. We had so little to eat anyway. The night before he left us he confirmed my suspicions that he'd completely stopped eating consciously._

" _You are smaller and don't need as much food," he told me. "You've gotten better, and I just keep getting worse. You're the only one who can take care of her."_

_I cried, even screamed. "How could you do this to me, Peeta!"_

" _Don't make it like that, Katniss. It's bad enough already," he told me softly between my rants._

_He didn't give up, but he accepted the reality of the situation. That was Peeta, always accepting._

_Regret overpowers me when I remember sitting on the side of the bed yelling at him. I wish I'd put Gloria in the bed with us and held on to Peeta as long as I could. How much more peaceful that would have been._

_Now he's gone._

_I'm all Gloria has, and I don't know if I can raise her alone. I'm so afraid._

" _Mama!" Gloria calls weakly. "Mama, please come back."_

_Slowly I stand and make my way up the stairs._

I wake with a gasp and tears rolling down my face. Instinctively, I turn to Peeta's side of the bed. But he's not there.

**Peeta:**

So Katniss has found me out. I didn't want her to know how tired I was or cause her to worry. I swore when I brought Gloria home that I would not put Katniss under pressure to help me take care of her.

Katniss does know about taking medicine, but not the same kind of medicine that I take. The _idea_ of taking medicine threatened Katniss' pride, which made her resist taking medicine after the war. She had very few side effects from the medicine she did take, and she doesn't take any now.

In my case, being restrained in the psychiatric ward in District 13 quickly relieved me of any pride I had left. My rare hesitations about taking medication were primarily practical _._ I really couldn't take care of Gloria if I couldn't hold my eyes open.

And there was more. Oddly, despite all my striving to be a good parent, I sometimes think that Gloria prefers Katniss. We see Katniss every day. Around Katniss, Gloria behaves better. She follows Katniss from room to room, and tries to engage her in her little games. She shows Katniss the drawings she makes with the crayons I gave her.

And it seems in Gloria's eyes, Katniss can do no wrong. _Katniss_ is perfect even though Katniss doesn't even know for sure if she wants Gloria to stay with us . But Gloria remains ignorant of that fact, and I certainly wouldn't want her to know it.

Gloria's relationship with me is very different. I have to wrangle her to make sure she dresses in clean clothes and allows me to brush her hair. An actual bath is a rarer and even more dramatic occasion. The hair brushing alone takes at least fifteen minutes because Gloria runs away, cries, and screams. She even resorted to spitting at me on a few occasions. At least she doesn't bite! I feared she might. Once I offered to have Sae cut Gloria's hair so it would not be so hard to care for, but Gloria cried about that as well and brushed her fingers through her wavy tresses with a hurt expression on her face. She's so infuriatingly like her mother sometimes! Most of the time I love Gloria acting like Katniss, but not _all_ the time. Katniss' stubbornness is much less endearing in a three-year-old.

"Oh, you look so nice!" Haymitch says when we visit him, and Gloria is freshly bathed and dressed in a clean dress with her hair carefully braided by none other than me. He probably means it as a compliment to me as much as to Gloria, but all I can think about is what we've been through to get her looking this way and what that has done to our relationship as father and daughter.

One night when we visited Katniss, Gloria came running into the room with Katniss' hairbrush. She rocked back and forth, smiling. Gloria still forgets to talk sometimes.

"What do you want, Gloria? Tell me," Katniss encouraged.

"Brush."

"What do you mean?"

"Brush my hair. Make braids."

My mouth literally dropped open.

Gloria sat down in front of Katniss' rocking chair, right between the rockers. Katniss leaned forward and began brushing through Gloria's long hair. Gloria didn't struggle. She barely flinched.

I watched, dumbfounded. Obviously they'd done this before, yet Gloria was still screaming whenever I tried to brush her hair.

"How are you doing that?" I asked Katniss.

"Doing what?"

"Getting her to let you do her hair."

Katniss looked over and smiled, tilting her head a little.

"I don't know, doesn't she let you?"

/

**Haymitch:**

Peeta's talking to me while I'm gardening when he says he wants to spend time alone with Katniss more often. He wants _me_ to babysit.

"Oh, great!" I tease him. "Now I have to imagine you two doing it while your daughter and I throw bread out to the geese from my back porch. Gross."

I throw a little soil around my plants with the spade I'm holding.

"Haymitch," he scolds with a hurt tone in his voice. I'm surprised because usually the boy can take a joke. "That's not why I'm asking. This isn't how I imagined it would be. I thought Katniss would want us to be under the same roof, eventually. I'm worried that she's getting too comfortable with us living apart. I want to really talk to her about it."

He has a point. Katniss enjoys being with Gloria, but she also likes going back to her own place. If you ask me, Peeta bears most of the responsibility and is doing most of the work while Katniss enjoys the delights of parenthood. But the kid knew that was the deal when he brought Gloria home without giving Katniss much of a say on the matter.

"Sure, kid. I'll babysit so you can spend time with Katniss. Just promise me you won't argue."

"Argue?"

"Yeah, I know you argue," I say raising an eyebrow at him. "More lately." I rise from my knees, trying not to drop the spade but realizing that I'm not as limber as I used to be. I guess I stayed down here too long. Peeta pulls me up by my arm to make things easier. "Don't get me wrong, kid. I'm not saying it's always a bad thing. At least you both care enough to try to work out your differences. But if you keep going over the same debate repeatedly without anybody changing you are just going to get angry with each other."

Peeta's brow furrows in confusion. "But I can't compromise without giving up on Gloria being here."

"Right. And we both know Katniss doesn't _really_ want you to give up on that anyway," I tell him while I knock the dirt off the spade. "So don't argue with her about it. Got it?"

Peeta still looks bewildered.

"You can't tell that girl what to do," I add. "Katniss has to make her own decision. It has to be _her_ idea, even if it's really _your_ idea."

He nods, and I think he understands.

"Oh, and Peeta," I continue. "Definitely spend some time doing things that would gross me out. I was just joking. That's important."

He smiles self-consciously.

Raised voices coming from the direction of Peeta's house catch our attention.

"Effie! What are you doing?" I hear Katniss yell.

Peeta's either left a lot of the windows open or Katniss is yelling awfully loudly.

Peeta cuts his eyes over to me, and we both rush up to the house. Effie and Katniss haven't been getting along so well since Effie made the comment one night after dinner that it was "so lovely" that Katniss didn't have to get fat, ruin her body, and go through labor to have Gloria.

When we reach the house, Gloria runs out the front door wearing a frilly yellow taffeta dress. I only know it's taffeta because of all those meetings with the stylists when I was a mentor.

When I arrive in the living room, Katniss is entirely too close to Effie's face, pointing her finger at her nose. Peeta elects to stay with Gloria outside.

"What's going on here, sweetheart?"

"Your _girlfriend_ has seen fit to 'improve' my daughter by dressing her in these clothes from the Capitol!"

Katniss glances over at a pile of dresses, all of which look very stylish but totally impractical for District 12.

"I'm _not_ Haymitch's girlfriend," Effie protests.

"Really? Then maybe you should stop sleeping in his bed when I can't even sleep in my husband's!"

Damn, this is bad.

"Okay, Katniss. Calm down," I soothe.

"For your information, I sleep in the guest room," Effie insists.

"Maybe part of the night!" Katniss yells, narrowing her eyes at Effie.

"Is this _really_ about the sleeping arrangements at my house?" I counter, stepping between the two of them. Katniss chooses to back off.

"No, I guess not." Katniss says as she stands up straighter and smoothes her hunting jacket.

"Then what's it about?" I ask.

Effie starts to open her red painted lips, but I flap my hand down in the air repeatedly to signal her to be quiet. Katniss is looking in the other direction toward the dresses as she begins speaking.

"She brought those from the _Capitol_ , Haymitch. I don't want them in our house or on my daughter."

"Whyever…" Effie starts to interrupt, and I vigorously slap at the air again to shut her up. That woman picks all the worst moments to say something!

Katniss scowls at Effie, and I don't blame her.

Then Katniss looks back at the dresses.

"I don't want anything from the Capitol near my daughter anymore. She belongs here now, and her clothes need to be clothes she can wear in District 12. Not these." Katniss picks up a layer of tulle and shakes her head.

" _I'm_ from the Capitol," Effie interjects before I can stop her.

Katniss shakes her head and I can see that her eyes are beginning to fill with tears.

"They are just clothes, and Effie means no harm by them," I tell her. "She shouldn't have tried them on or shown them to Gloria without your permission, but Effie simply doesn't understand what these clothes symbolize to you, Katniss."

Katniss starts to truly break down, and her anger dissolves into streams of sadness that slide down her cheeks. I pull her into a hug, and she lets me. Then I walk her over to the sofa where she sits down slowly, a dazed look on her face. Peeta must have heard the conversation because within moments he's inside the house with Gloria, bringing her close to her mother. Katniss takes the girl in her arms, yellow taffeta and all.

Effie comes to me, clearly shaken.

"She wouldn't have hurt you," I tell her. "She's just a mama bear when it comes to that little girl."

"They were just clothes, Haymitch! I just wanted Gloria to look pretty."

"But, Effie, those aren't just clothes to Katniss. They're a reminder of something terrible, something she never wants to happen to Gloria."

/

**Katniss:**

Gloria came to stay with me this morning so Peeta could rest. She played with Buttercup in the corner of the living room at first, and then was underfoot in the kitchen for a while

The snow started falling shortly thereafter. The snow showers are becoming heavier as the afternoon wears on. Gloria's delighted, standing at the backdoor and watching the flurries. She opens the door and catches a few on her fingers and tongue several times.

After lunch she throws a temper tantrum when I tell her she's too close to the fire, and I ignore her wailing and back her far away from the fire half a dozen times before she gives up her opposition.

I'm starting to become concerned as the snow keeps falling heavily. We have so much snow on the ground already.

Peeta arrives mid –afternoon to find Gloria curled up on the sofa asleep.

He's bewildered. "An actual nap? How did that happen?"

"She cried herself out after a tantrum, so I put her on the sofa. I'm pretty sure the tantrum happened because she's so tired."

Peeta sits beside Gloria and very gently pulls her near him, reveling in the quiet moment with her. He runs his fingers through her hair, and I smile.

"Her hair is so pretty," he says. "I'm glad we left it long. She likes you brushing it, and I like to watch you two when you do it. I only wish she was like that with me."

"She _is_ like that with you. Just about different things," I tell him. "You're her ' _daddy.'_ I'm just 'Katniss.'"

"You can be anything you want," he tells me. "She already thinks of you as a mother, and you act like one."

Something about the way he's talking to me makes me want to sit with them, and I do. Leaning up against Peeta, I rest my head on his shoulder and join him in stroking Gloria's hair. She stretches, and one of her hands comes to rest near mine. I lay my hand on hers. Then I run my index finger down each of her small fingers. I remember new mothers doing that after my mother delivered their babies. They were fascinated with their babies, especially their tiny hands.

"You still want to keep her with us?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"More than anything," he says, his bright blue eyes sad but hopeful.

Why does he look so sad? We are here together, aren't we?

"You?" he finally asks hesitantly.

Before I can answer we hear a commotion on the front porch, and Haymitch rushes in.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him worriedly, not understanding why he'd go out in a snowstorm that's quickly becoming a blizzard. Even just opening the door reveals that conditions are only getting worse.

"Peeta. We have to go to town," he huffs, trying to recover from his trek through the snow.

"A person can hardly see where they are going out there! I bet you barely made it to our house, Haymitch. Why would you and Peeta go to town?" I ask.

"The roof of the school collapsed. There's some people trapped inside. We don't know how many. They need help."

This is not a request that Peeta can refuse, and I know it. Before I can protest, he's on his feet and transferring a sleeping Gloria into my arms.

"I love you," he says as he kisses me goodbye. "Everything will be okay."

He leans over to kiss Gloria's temple.

"Take care of our girl."

[Thanks to my wonderful beta Katnissinme and to Loueze who continues to help with the story-making process. You two are wonderful.]


	13. The Storm

**Katniss:**

Gloria wakes up shortly after Peeta leaves.

Soon she's asking, "Where Daddy?"

So I tell her "He had to help Haymitch with something very important. He'll be back soon."

As the afternoon turns into evening Gloria becomes increasingly upset. Perhaps the raging snowstorm unnerves her enough to make her worry about her father.

She keeps going to the window, pushing her little hands against the glass and whimpering softly. She calls for Peeta several times, but I can't understand everything she says. Nothing I do calms her, and she won't let me hold her. I can't distract her. Eventually she can't be persuaded to do anything. She just stands in front of the window crying. I feel useless.

**Gloria:**

_Daddy not here._

_Katniss says he "okay."_

_Big people say "okay!" Not! "okay!"_

_No want hugs! Want Daddy!_

_Where Daddy?_

_Not "okay!"_

_Please come back, Daddy. Please._

**Haymitch:**

"Peeta, hold this," I yell to him over the howl of the wind that's whipping around us. He looks up, a little bewildered but following my instructions. Peeta's reactions seem a step behind everyone else as if it takes him an extra thought to process anything. That would not be a problem if we weren't trying to lift heavy pieces of metal in order to locate a dozen trapped neighbors.

Thom holds up his hand, signaling us all to be quiet. Somebody thinks they've heard something in the rubble, but I can't imagine how anybody could hear anything out here.

"Take five!" Thom orders, holding his hand up with all five fingers outstretched to clarify his command.

Peeta and I walk through the deep snow toward the Justice Building next door, the wind mercifully at our backs.

"What's going on?" the town doctor asks rushing over to us as we enter the makeshift hospital she's set up in the entryway. "Any updates?"

"Thom said take a break," I tell her. "Somebody heard something. He wants to make sure we don't crush one of the victims trying to get them out."

The doctor nods and points to some coffee that she and the other caregivers have made for us. With no patients to care for yet, they're anxious to help _somebody_.

Peeta sits down and wraps his hands tightly around the coffee cup.

I watch him for a minute. His hands are shaking. "Kid, what's going on with you?" I ask. "If we didn't need you out there so much I'd tell you to stay inside. You've gotta' get your wits about you before you get hurt."

Explaining further appears unnecessary. Peeta understands, but his eyes look distant despite that comprehension.

"This reminds me too much of some other places. That's all, Haymitch. The snow. The cold. People trapped…children in danger," he explains.

He's probably talking about when he was in the Capitol during the war, but I don't ask for clarification for fear of making Peeta think of what's bothering him even more.

"Yeah. It's hard, but we knew to expect that," I tell him, but I'm starting to understand.

"I can't watch more of that, children dying that is," Peeta continues.

"I've had enough of that for a lifetime myself, but we aren't going to watch anybody die," I tell him. "We're going to get them out of that damn pile of metal and bring them in here. Whether they die or not, the doctor and her team will be with them. We're not here to…."

"I need to call Katniss," Peeta interrupts, obviously not having listened to anything I just said.

"Sure kid. Whatever helps," I tell him. Peeta attempts to place his coffee cup on the floor beside his chair, but his hand shakes so much that he ends up spilling a little of the coffee instead. So he hands the now half-full cup to me and sighs.

"Sorry," he says.

"No problem."

I can feel my face tighten with anxiety as Peeta makes his way to the phone. I recognize these signs.

**Peeta:**

I call Katniss from the Justice Building after we've helped with the rescue efforts for several hours. Thom says we have to warm up every now and then or we'll all be under the doctor's care. Plus, somebody thought they heard something from under the rubble. One of the victims, perhaps a voice. I wince at the thought of it, even now. I want to get those people out so much, and having to remove the rubble so slowly frustrates me.

"What's going on?" Katniss asks nervously once we've greeted each other on the phone.

"The roof and two exterior walls of the school collapsed," I tell her. "That building was never really intended to withstand storms like this. It was just a temporary building really. Unfortunately, some people didn't know that and took shelter from the storm there."

"Everybody okay?" she asks.

"We don't think so. It looks bad," I tell her. "The side of the building that collapsed is just a tangle of metal now."

"Oh, Peeta. I'm sorry. Please be careful. Don't take any chances. No trying to be a hero, alright? Just do your best and remember there are plenty of other people out there to help, like Haymitch and Thom," Katniss tells me.

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. What irony that she thinks I _could_ be a hero right now.

"I'll be careful, but it wouldn't be right not to try to help, Katniss. What if it was you or Gloria who were trapped like that?"

The thought makes me shiver. Thinking of Gloria is one reason this whole situation bothers me so much. I've never had anyone quite like her in my life that I could lose. Being a father is an entirely new kind of relationship for me.

"I know." Katniss says softly. "I understand you have to help, but please be careful."

In the background I hear Gloria's voice. She sounds whiny and sniffles like she does after she's been crying. Then I hear her calling for me.

"Daddy?" she asks, sounding frantic. "Daddy come back? Pweeease." Her words jumble together in her clearly distressed emotional state.

"Yes, it's your Daddy on the phone, Gloria. He's just fine. He'll be back soon," Katniss tells her.

"Want Daddy!" she wails.

"Is she okay?" I ask Katniss.

"It's okay, Peeta. I didn't want to worry you, but she's been crying most of the time you've been gone. She's terrified that you aren't coming back. I keep telling her everything will be okay, but she keeps crying for you."

"Want Daddy! Not go away!" I hear her wail plaintively.

Already on an emotional roller-coaster, the thought of my daughter crying for so long strikes me as completely unacceptable. My heart pounds. I can't stand her being so frightened.

_I shouldn't have left. I should be there. With my wife and my daughter._

"Trying to hold her hasn't helped. She just runs away. Even Buttercup can't make her happy," Katniss confides. "I'm so bad at this Peeta."

I can tell by her voice that Katniss is starting to cry, and all I know is that I can't tolerate my girls feeling this way another second. I'm supposed to be there for them.

"I'm coming home," I tell Katniss. "They can handle things here. I'm not even sure I'm helping that much."

"No!" Katniss cries though her voice cracks. "No! That's not what I meant! I just…I just needed to tell you she was upset. We'll be fine. Please don't try to come home right now. I've seen what it looks like out there, Peeta. You'll get lost in the snow," Katniss warns.

"But if I don't leave soon there's no way I can make it back home by nightfall."

"Peeta, please don't…"

Suddenly, the sound on the phone clicks off. I can't hear anything anymore, not even that strange static sound that phones always make.

"Katniss?" I wait for a response. "Katniss?"

There's no answer, and I wonder if the phone is dead.

Thom comes running inside. "Did the phone stop working just now, Peeta?" he asks when he sees me calling Katniss' name desperately into the phone receiver.

"I guess," I tell him.

He curses. "We saw some lines a few blocks away go down, but I was hoping the phones would still work. Too much ice weighing down the lines, I guess. Now we can't get updates out to anyone."

I stare at the phone.

"Well, at least it wasn't the power lines. That would be worse," I hear one of the other men remark.

"I have to go!" I tell Thom.

"Where?" Thom asks as a shocked expression crosses his face.

"Home. They need me at home."

"You'll never make it Peeta. Don't even try. We don't have enough people to find you if you get lost, and we don't have a phone line to even confirm if you make it home safely or not."

"I don't care. My daughter is screaming for me, and my wife is upset. I have to go home!" My voice is starting to rise even though I know Thom doesn't deserve it.

"Your daughter? What are you talking about?" he asks.

"My daughter! Gloria!"

Thom narrows his eyes at me, and then I remember that he probably doesn't know about her. We've been trying to keep this entire matter quiet. I never take Gloria into town with me. Nobody but Haymitch has met her so far. I don't explain because it would not serve any purpose at this point. I simply need to get past Thom and walk home.

Thom turns to one of the other men who's been working with us, "Go get Haymitch," he tells him.

"You don't need Haymitch, Thom," I remark. "You just need to let me go!" I'm yelling now, but knowing that doesn't allow me to stop doing it.

I push past Thom reiterating that my purpose is to go home.

As I near the door Haymitch arrives. I stomp past him in my snow boots, but he grabs my arm.

"Where do you think you're going? Home? No way, Peeta. You'll never make it in this storm."

I yank my arm away, but suddenly both Haymitch and Thom have their hands on me. They don't have the right to try to stop me from leaving, but something inside me tells me that all they want to do is protect me.

"Peeta," Haymitch tells me calmly, almost in a whisper. I'm struggling against him. "You need to stay here. You look like you do when you're about to have an episode. Do you hear me? I don't want that to happen with your little girl around again. Even if you could make it home, you won't be well. Stay here with us. We'll watch out for you."

He only calls me by my real name when he's worried about me, but he's wrong. He has to be wrong. I just need to help my wife and calm my daughter. Fathers have to be stronger than this. I can't have any problems like this.

I glance over at Thom, and he stares back sadly. He doesn't know me that well. He's really more Katniss' friend than mine, but unfortunately almost everyone knows that Peeta Mellark is a little crazy.

Swallowing hard, I close my eyes for a moment and try to settle my swirling thoughts and fears. I'm still pushing against Thom and Haymitch and leaning toward the door. I'm not sure I can stop. So I drop to my knees. A second later Haymitch falls to his knees also, and I think how it must hurt him to do that. Thom stands by me, his hand on my shoulder. I think he's trying to keep the others from seeing what's happening with me. He must be as good a guy as Katniss says he is to do that for me.

"You're right," I tell Haymitch, my voice raspy and full of guilt.

He nods.

"Let's just stay here for a minute."

I can feel Haymitch's hands on my arms.

His voice starts to fade, and I hear him mumble something to Thom. There's suddenly something soft behind me, and I feel like I'm falling. The blackness is pulling me under.

"Got too cold; he'll be all right," I hear Thom say. He's close to my ear and speaking to someone whose voice I don't recognize. Thom's lying, of course. I want to thank him for lying even though I know he shouldn't have to do it.

Someone puts something fluffy over me, a blanket maybe.

"You know what this _really_ is," Haymitch whispers, leaning over me. "I hope we don't have to restrain him."

The higher voice of the town doctor answers back. "Yes. I know. We'll watch him. Be careful…" the town doctor replies. Then everything is deathly quiet.

/

" _Papa! Papa!"_

" _He's not here, Peeta. Stop calling him and be quiet," Graham scolds. "That will just make her even madder."_

_We hear her footsteps and Graham pulls me down low so he's hovering over me, protecting me from what's coming. The broom closet is suddenly filled with light as Mama flings open the door. Graham's attempts to protect me fail as Mama pulls me up by my arm even while the rest of my body is still pinned under my brother. I yelp from the pain of my shoulder twisting, and my brother shifts to free me._

_She sets my feet back down on the ground and starts to scream at me. Her face is so close to mine that I can feel her hot breath on my cheeks. I can't even understand her, but I know she hates me. I close my eyes and bite my lower lip hard. Then I say under my breath, "Papa, I want Papa."_

_I hear Graham sigh._

_Mama roughly pulls my chin and shakes my head back and forth._

" _Open your eyes!" she orders. "What did you say, Peeta Mellark?"_

_I remain silent, but the damage is done._

_Her hand drops my chin abruptly, and she proceeds to slap me across the face so hard that I hear Graham gasp._

" _He's not here! And if he cared about any of us then he would be. Stupid man!" Mama complains._

_My face stings, but my cheek doesn't hurt as much as my shoulder_

" _Quiet, Graham, or you'll get the same!"_

_Graham looks at me, his eyes teary. I'm panicking, trembling. My small heart pounds in my chest even faster than it usually does. I open my mouth to speak. Graham shakes his head, violently, and I know he wants me to be quiet._

" _Marilyn Mellark!" An accusing voice rings out loud and clear. I look to the back door and see our Aunt Ginny, Papa's sister. Who knows how long she's been there watching._

_Our aunt crosses the room and reaches her hand out to Graham who takes it gratefully. Graham's still grasping my hand, and we stand up together._

" _This is none of your business, Ginny," Mama tells her. Her voice sounds strange, almost afraid._

" _Oh, my brother's children are definitely my business," she tells Mama as she hurries us to the back door so fast that my legs can hardly keep up._

_Once we are outside the screen door, she turns to face Mama. "Tell my brother that his children are at my place, and I'll be happy to discuss with him why they are when he comes for them. Don't even think about telling the peacekeepers I don't have permission to take them to my house because you know my brother will disagree with that. He'll not have me in trouble with the peacekeepers on your account."_

_I see Mama standing there in the bakery kitchen with her hands on her hips as Aunt Ginny turns me around and starts asking me what I want for dinner. Her green striped scarf dangles from her neck just far enough to hit me in the face with every step we take toward her house._

" _I want Papa," I tell my aunt._

" _He'll be back soon, Peeta."_

_/_

**Katniss:**

The phone connection fails before I can let Gloria talk to Peeta as I'd planned. Nor can I convince her that he's okay and will be back soon. Worse than that, now I have no idea if Peeta will actually try to walk home or not, and thoughts of him freezing to death in the snow intermingle with Gloria's frightened rants. I feel my heart beating much faster, pounding in my chest. I break out in a cold sweat as I fight the urge to run to hide in the darkness of the coat closet.

Instead I pull Gloria onto my lap to try again to comfort her, hoping my efforts will comfort both of us. But her ever-present food bag drops to the floor. A bruised and battered apple tumbles out. Gloria goes to retrieve it and knocks her head against the side table in the process, inducing a whole new round of crying for Gloria and feelings of helplessness for me.

Peeta left a folder full of papers precariously positioned on that very table before he left, and the papers fly into the air. The papers are all about Gloria. Peeta had brought them over because he needs to file some kind of progress report with the orphans' home, and he wanted me to help him.

Gloria rubs her head and wails louder, but then she suddenly grows quiet. She seems alright from the head bump, but she's staring at something. When I catch a glimpse of the paper she's looking at, I wonder if despairing in silence is really better than crying. It never was for me, even though for a long time I believed otherwise.

The paper has a picture of Gloria's mother, the mother she lost.

Gloria's small, chubby finger points to the red-haired woman in the picture as a large tear rolls down her cheek.

I'm frozen. What can I say? What would I have wanted someone to say to me after my father died?

"That's your mommy, right?" I ask gently.

Gloria is quiet, rubbing her fingers across the picture.

"Mommy go away," Gloria explains.

"Yes, but she didn't want to go."

Gloria doesn't question that, and I think she's probably been told that much before.

"But I'm sure you still miss her just the same," I tell her.

Gloria starts to cry again, and even though this crying is softer it's far more troubling to me. She heaves deep sorrowful sobs that I recognize. Prim used to cry like that about our father.

I want to run from the room. My own grief over the last few years has been more than I could handle, and helping this child seems impossible at the moment.

But as I turn to walk into the kitchen for a minute's relief, Gloria calls to me.

"Katniss, come back! Pwease come back!"

I stop mid-step, suddenly filled with remorse.

She's a _child_. She's _my_ child, and she needs me.

And for some reason Gloria lets me hold and comfort her for the first time tonight.

She nestles into me while staring at her mother's picture, the mother who gave birth to her and who died in front of her. In my mind she's Gloria's "real" mother, though some would say that I'm Gloria's "real" mother. Gloria catches me watching.

"Mommy," she says solemnly as she points to the picture of her mother.

"Yes," I answer. "That's right."

Thoughts of my father come back to me, and I suddenly appreciate that I knew him for eleven years, that I remember him. I'm afraid Gloria might forget her mother. I run my fingers through Gloria's hair and start to talk about her. After all, everybody thinks you want to forget about the people you've lost, but you actually want to remember.

"She had pretty eyes," I tell Gloria. "I bet she smiled a lot. Did she?"

Gloria stares at me, the tears making her blue eyes glisten. Her eyes make it impossible for me to forget who her father is, but right now I'm so thankful for that.

There's a long pause, and I'm surprised that Gloria doesn't say anything about her mother.

"You're Mommy was very quiet. She didn't talk, right?"

I start to braid a small section of Gloria's hair loosely with my fingers, and the little braid becomes long enough that Gloria can watch me finish it.

"Didn't talk," Gloria confirms.

"But you knew what she wanted to tell you?"

Gloria smiles. Then she pulls the picture of her mother back in front of her again, bending it just a little, unfortunately. Her smile slowly fades.

"Mommy sick," Gloria says sadly. She's breaking my heart with her innocent explanations of being left alone in the world. Her grief couldn't be more evident even if she could articulate it with great detail.

Gloria turns into me and wraps her arms around me tightly.

"Katniss, no go away," she begs me.

And before I've had a chance to think about what I'm saying, I've promised that I won't.

/

I show her the book, turning to Peeta's family first. Graham's page is the first one I see.

"Daddy," Gloria says, pointing at Graham's picture.

Gloria is right that the picture resembles Peeta. When Graham died he was about the age that Peeta is now, a thought that makes me shiver.

"No, this is your Uncle Graham. He was your Daddy's brother," I explain.

"Brother," she repeats, and I'm not sure she understands. At least she knows he's not Peeta though.

"Yes, they looked very much alike. Uncle Graham had to go away, just like your Mommy. Your Daddy was very sad, and sometimes he's still sad," I continue, my voice growing increasingly quiet. "So you can tell him whenever you get sad, Gloria. He'll understand."

Gloria touches the drawing of Graham and the words that were written in my handwriting but dictated by Peeta. They explain Graham's love for his family, his loyalty, and his deep understanding of other people, but Gloria seems to like the way they look.

Gloria lies down in my lap, content to look at the drawing of Graham. She doesn't turn any pages in the book or ask any questions. In a few minutes her breathing quiets and she drifts off to sleep.

Gloria and I stay still for a long time, but eventually the fire starts to die. I slowly untangle Gloria from me and lay her head on a blanket I pull off the nearby sofa. After feeding the fire I stare out of the same window my daughter used to keep a vigil for Peeta this evening. A single streetlamp illuminates the main path to victor's village, and its glow reflects off the swirling snowflakes. A gust of wind shakes the house and sends the snowflakes flying in new directions. I can only hope that Peeta didn't try to make it home in the storm.

(AN: Special thanks to my beta Katnissinme and also to Loueze. Both of you helped me with this chapter even while celebrating with your families. Thank you!)


	14. Doubt

Peeta:

_Aunt Ginny dabs my cheek gently with a wet, cold washcloth. It smells like the bakery does when Mama makes herb bread._

_"Does that hurt?" Aunt Ginny asks._

_I don't answer. Graham says I need to be quieter. Then Aunt Ginny presses my cheek harder, and I flinch._

_"I guess it does," she says as she takes a closer look at my cheek. "You know, you can tell me anything, Peeta."_

_My nose wrinkles at the smell of the washcloth when she dips it into the bowl of water again._

_"I wanna' know what that is," I say pointing to the water._

_"That is something my friend Violet showed me how to make once. It makes hurts like this cheek of yours feel better, but it smells kind of funny. You might have met my friend. She's the healer in the Seam, Mrs. Everdeen."_

_My eyes grow wide, "You have a friend in the Seam?"_

_Aunt Ginny smiles a little._

_"Yes, she helped me when I got hurt as a little girl. She didn't always live in the Seam. The man she married was from there and she moved there to live with him."_

_"Oh. Mama says the Seam is a bad place and not to talk to people from there," I tell her._

_"The Seam can be a sad place, but the people there are just like the people who live in town in most ways," she adds._

_"I need to go to the bathroom," I tell Aunt Ginny._

_"Then go on. When you get back you can sit by the fire and hold a little of this against your cheek."_

_I'm washing my hands and in the mirror I can see the red marks that Mama's hand left on my cheek. My shoulder feels sore where she pulled me._

_Going back to Aunt Ginny, I see that she's put a quilt in the chair. She motions for me to sit down and tucks the quilt around me. Then she gives me the washcloth and shows me how I'm supposed to hold it against my sore cheek._

_"There," she says with a smile. "Just rest now. After dinner you and Graham can play for a little while before bed."_

_I wonder why Aunt Ginny is being so nice to me. Mama would say I got what I deserved._

_"Are you going to be a Mama, Aunt Ginny?" I ask her._

_She turns her head a little to look at my face more closely._

_"I don't know. Maybe someday," she answers, and her voice sounds kind of strange._

_"You'd be a nice Mama," I tell her._

_"Thank you, Peeta."_

_"I'd like it if my Mama were like you," I tell her. She reaches out for me and hugs me close. Her eyes are kind of watery._

_Someday when I'm the papa I want my kids to have a nice Mama. If they have a Mama at all. Delly says they will have to have a mama! But I told her, "No they don't! Not if she's mean!" Delly says I'm wrong, but if my kids have to have a mean Mama then maybe I don't want to ever be a Papa at all!_

_/_

_Papa arrives after Aunt Ginny has already made a pallet on the floor for us, and Graham has fallen asleep. I crawl from under the quilt and run to Papa, and he lifts me up in his arms and holds me for a long time. I notice his cheek is wet when I kiss him goodnight and go back to lie down again beside Graham._

_"I should have been with them," I hear him whisper to Aunt Ginny a little while later. "I forgot that Ethan had wrestling practice. She doesn't get that way when Ethan's around anymore. She knows he'll tell me if she gets even a little out of control."_

_I peek over Graham to watch them. Aunt Ginny hugs Papa._

_"You can't change what's already happened, but what are you going to do now?"_

_"I don't know what else to do," he answers. "I know I'm supposed to take care of them, to protect them." His voice sounds shaky. "But I can't keep the bakery running and still be there all the time to protect them the way I know I should. Marilyn alienates our customers and suppliers when I send her to do work outside the bakery, and sometimes she flatly refuses to go."_

_Aunt Ginny hugs Papa again, and suddenly I feel extra sad._

/

The noise bothers me, and my head throbs, but I reluctantly open my eyes. I'm surprised to find I'm lying on a cot. Haymitch sleeps on the cot next to mine, and he's snoring loudly with his mouth wide open. I look to the door of the justice building and see the sky is burnt orange with the sunset over the snowy horizon. The snow has stopped falling.

_I can go home!_ I think. Sitting up, I reach under the cot for my snowboots and find them there. I'm lacing them when Haymitch startles awake.

He looks surprised to see me. "How you feeling, kid?"

"Better. But I've gotta get home. Have they found anyone yet?" I ask Haymitch.

Haymitch motions around the room and for the first time I notice the other cots and the people sleeping in them. Some are the other men who were helping with the rescue efforts, but many are kids and adults who were presumably trapped in the school.

"Everybody okay?" I ask Haymitch hesitantly.

"Amazingly, they probably will be," he answers.

"How long have I been out?" I ask, worried that it's been longer than I thought if all the victims have been rescued.

Haymitch looks at his watch.

"About two days," he says.

"What! That long? Why didn't you wake me up?" I ask him frantically, "What about Katniss and Gloria?"

"Kid, I'm not waking you up when you're like that. No way. I'm not stupid. You needed to stay put! To tell you the truth I was afraid you'd wake up on your own and risk going out into the snowstorm! What good do you think you'd be to your wife and kid as an icicle?"

I double knot the lace to one of my snow boots clumsily.

"I'm leaving," I tell him.

"Wait," he says worriedly. "I'll go with you."

/

Katniss:

I'm watching Gloria as she sleeps in my bed next to me. I put her here last night because she was inconsolable. She's still watching out the window for Peeta, but she's not asking for him anymore. Poor thing.

As for me, I can't stop thinking. Mostly I'm worrying about Peeta and anything that distracts me from that is a blessing right now. I don't want to panic or cry in front of Gloria. She is scared enough already. I play with her hair. She has such interesting hair, wavy but not curly like Peeta's gets when it's a little long. Not mostly straight like mine, either. I love how she's like each of us in various ways, and she's a constant reminder of Peeta to me.

During the time I lived in District 13 and thought that Peeta was lost to me forever, I had a reoccurring dream that I have never told anyone about. The dream varied slightly each time I experienced it, but the running theme was that I really had been married to Peeta, and that it was true that I was pregnant with his baby when he announced it at the tribute interviews. In the dream I consoled myself by rubbing my belly and thinking of him. Even though I had never wanted to be a mother I was so very happy to be pregnant in that dream. I talked to the baby and told it about Peeta. It felt like a little piece of him was left with me even though he was far away and maybe never coming back to me. In the dream I seemed a little older which apparently made being married and pregnant a little easier for me to imagine, I guess. The dream was shockingly pleasant to me, mostly because I needed to feel close to Peeta so much, and this dream was the only thing that made me feel close to him besides the pearl.

Most of the time I'd wake up crying and curling into a little ball because I'd realize that there was no baby, and it was just a dream. Peeta and I had never been married, never made love, and never made a baby together. Then I'd wonder if that's what I wanted somewhere deep inside me? Did that mean I was in love with Peeta just as everyone seemed to think I was? Of course, now I know the answer to that question was "yes," but at the time I was very confused. Oddly, if Beetee is correct the Capitol was probably considering the plan to "make" Gloria at the very same time I was having this dream.

While I've been watching over her during these past few days I've found myself wishing that I'd carried her. It's not that I would ever want to take Helena away from her. Gloria obviously loves the woman that carried and raised her before Peeta and I knew about her. I just have questions about what it would have been like to take care of her from the very beginning and wonder if my feelings for her would be less confusing now if she'd been with me all along.

It sounds odd, but I wish my body had been the one that had cocooned her, nourished her, and helped her grow strong enough to be born. Maybe I just wish for that time between finding out a baby is on the way and the expectation of parenting the baby. We had no time to prepare ourselves before Gloria came into our lives. But I even wish I'd given birth to her sometimes, though I think I should probably be grateful to Helena for handing that difficult task for me! Effie and her ridiculous ideas about the "horrible" repercussions of pregnancy, stretch marks and weight gain. She just doesn't understand. I would do anything for Gloria. Even when I wanted to give her away…

Oh my! "Even when I wanted to give her away?" Does that mean I don't want to give her away anymore? I mean, I knew I didn't really want to take her away from Peeta but…oh my! I don't know what I want or wanted. This whole situation is overwhelming!

All of these questions flooding my mind cause me to panic about Peeta again. What if he's gone? What if he tried to get home and froze to death in the snow? I shudder at the thought and pull our sleeping daughter closer to me.

Nobody would know yet. The phone lines are still down. Gloria would be all I had left of Peeta, and there's no way I'd ever let anyone take her away from me. No way! I'd take care of Gloria forever, for her and for Peeta. I know it would be what he would want. I don't want to be alone ever again! He wouldn't want me to be alone. Why am I robbing myself of a family? I'm not even living with my husband. I'm robbing all of us of being a family!

/

Peeta:

Gloria loves snow, but snow this deep would probably scare her when she sank down into it. Even Katniss is short enough that she might have trouble walking in it, but thankfully the snow is more manageable for Haymitch and me. Still, snow gets in our boots and melts down our legs almost as soon as we start walking. My good leg starts to feel very cold and numb. The feeling matches my mood.

Over and overI keep thinking, what am I going to do?

I know that coming to dramatic conclusions about my life in the wake of an episode, even a relatively mild one, is dangerous; yet I'm obsessing over our little family's situation. I promised Katniss I would not do anything to force her to take care of Gloria when I brought Gloria home to District 12. There had been more than one heated discussion, and I'd made the promise more than once. It didn't seem to make her feel better. She was more concerned about the attachment Gloria and I were forming than the practical care needs of a three-year-old. She worried we'd grow too attached to each other to ever be separated if Gloria didn't end up staying in District 12 permanently. At the time, I thought she was being so cold, but now I understand that in her own way she was trying to protect both Gloria and me.

Back then I believed I could be a good parent alone until Katniss was ready to consider a more permanent solution to our dilemma. In reality, I had just wanted Katniss to accept Gloria as our daughter. I had hoped that seeing her in our home, happy and growing, would show Katniss that we could be good for Gloria and she could be good for us. But I never intended to force Katniss into being a mother through my own inability to be a father.

The whole situation brings all my feelings of inadequacy to the forefront. There are things I cannot do, things I used to be able to do that I can no longer do. Katniss copes with that. She's an adult and can fend for herself. She needs me as her partner in life just as I need her as mine, but it's a different kind of need than a child has for her parent.

I don't want to have to depend on anyone in order to raise my child! I'm the father, and I should be able to be what Gloria needs. If I can't, then maybe Katniss has been right all along. Maybe this is too much for me. What in the world is going to happen to us? The thought of it makes me shudder. Have I done a terrible disservice to my daughter? She loves me and trusts me now. What if I have to send her back to the orphans' home? What would that do to her?

Suddenly a memory of Katniss sitting in the rocking chair nearly starving herself to death after the war comes to mind. Does anything like that happen to children if they are traumatized? Abandonment has to be traumatic. She's already lost Helena, and if I have to give up on being a father to her she'll lose me as well. I could try to still see her sometimes, but I doubt she'll even want that. I don't think I would if I were her. She might still love me, but she won't understand why I abandoned her.

What have I done? Maybe it would have been better for her not to have known me at all. While I once believed that I plunged into parenthood immediately upon finding out I had a daughter for _her_ sake. I now understand that I really did it for _mine_. Because a child is something that I have always wanted. I swallow the lump rising in my throat and look straight up at the sky to try to get the tears to stay in my eyes. I don't want Haymitch to see them. But there's little you can hide from Haymitch when he's paying attention.

"Peeta, I'm sure they are fine," Haymitch says. "Katniss is a big girl. She can take care of herself, and contrary to what she may believe she can take care of Gloria as well. It's Effie we should be worried about! I did teach her how to tend a fire properly this trip. I just hope she remembered.

"It's not that," I say, still trying to hide how upset I am.

"What is it then?" he asks.

"Nothing. Really, it's nothing."

Haymitch doesn't believe me. I can tell by the way he sighs and looks away.

"Maybe I am worried," I add. "Maybe I just need to see them before I'll be able to calm down."

Soon we've made our way to Victor's Village. Night has fallen by the time we near the porch of Katniss' house.

"You want to come in and warm up a little?" I ask Haymitch as my bad leg slips into an unexpectedly deep spot in the snow.

"No, you need to be with your family. Just be sure and tell Katniss what happened, okay? She should know."

I look down, not just to make sure my leg handles the snow alright but because I'm ashamed. I should have taken that medicine every night! I should have found a way. I should have asked for help sooner. Thank God I took it as much as I did, otherwise I'd probably be hallucinating right now. I wince. Poor Gloria. If she stays with me she's going to grow up with a father who's far from "normal." People will know. Thom's "he got too cold" explanation for my disorientation might have been reasonable at first, but nobody's going to believe I stayed unconscious and out of my mind for two days because of getting a little too cold. Haymitch and I haven't discussed what I might have said or done during the episode. I could have been very obvious that my mental health is not good at times. More people will know about my episodes, and Gloria will live with the shadow of them over her if she stays with me. I don't think I can do that to her.

Sensing that I'm upset, Haymitch tries to be encouraging.

"You did good work out there, Peeta. We lifted most of the heaviest pieces of metal while you were helping us. You have a family. Go let them love on you and stop worrying."

There's a creaking sound and a small squeaking version of my name, and I look up to see my wife, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. I rush to her where she stands on the porch and throw my arms around her, picking her up an inch or two off the ground in my enthusiasm to hold her. When I set her back on her feet she starts to say something. I stop her by capturing her lips in a long and heartfelt kiss. She turns her head slightly and my hands gently reach for her face as our kiss deepens.

"Jeez, get a room!" I hear Haymitch comment as he walks past the porch.

"We have several," I comment when I come up for air, my eyes still locked on Katniss.

"Go use one and stop giving me an eyeful!" Haymitch adds.

Katniss and I hold each other tightly, but we stop kissing. She looks me up and down, either trying to determine if I'm really there or if I'm alright. When she's satisfied with what she sees we both watch Haymitch trek through the snow to his place.

"Like you're not going to kiss, Effie?" I call to him when he nears his front door. Haymitch flaps his arm up and down in the air with his back turned to us as he enters his house, accomplishing the dual purposes of saying goodbye and dismissing my teasing.

As I turn back to Katniss I ask her, "How's Gloria?"

That's when I see the tears she has been holding back finally spill down her cheeks.

"You said you were going to come home…," she sobs, squeezing my forearms where's she's been holding on to me.

"I know. I'm sorry," I interrupt, kissing the tears from her cheeks. "I told you I didn't expect you to take care of Gloria, and then you had to do it all by yourself for so long. I'm so very sorry."

"No, Peeta!" she cries, "I'm not upset because of that. I thought maybe you really did try to come home and froze to death out there!" Her voice softens a bit, and she leans into me for comfort. "I was so afraid I'd lost you, and I never want to lose you again. Now that I see you're here with me, I think I'll be okay."

I hold her tightly but soon realize that we're both shivering.

"Come on. It's cold out here," I tell her as I put my arm around her and lead her to the door. She wipes a few more tears from her eyes with her fingers.

"Gloria's just fine. She's sleeping upstairs," she tells me.

I start for the stairs, but Katniss stops me by pulling me back.

"When's the last time you ate?" she asks, looking worried.

"I'm not sure," I say pretending I really don't know because I don't want Katniss to find out about my episode in town, not yet anyway.

"Then have something now while you can," Katniss says. "A few more minutes while she is sleeping won't do any harm, ad you look like you need it."

We eat left-over soup, bread and cheese before making our way up the stairs. Katniss doesn't explain why Gloria is asleep so early, but our little girl's sleep habits are so erratic that it doesn't surprise me that she is. I'm thrilled to see her curled up in Katniss' bed holding her doll. Katniss sits on the bed and pats the place beside her.

"Gloria loves you so much," Katniss tells me. "I'm amazed at the bond you two have already. You're doing such a good job with her, Peeta."

I sit down and Katniss takes my hand and squeezes it. Her unexpected compliment causes a strange mix of pride and guilt to well up in me.

Katniss rests her head on my shoulder as she tells me, "Something's troubling you. I can feel it."

"No, I'm just tired," I tell her. "The last few days have been…trying."

"Nothing specific is bothering you?" she asks, genuinely concerned.

I hesitate for a moment, "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. I promise. We can talk then. Right now, I just need to be with my girls."

We both look down at our peacefully sleeping daughter, and I think what a wonderful moment this could be if our lives were simpler. But they're not. I've hurt Gloria, she just doesn't know it yet. Katniss has made it very clear that she's not ready to be a mother, and if I'm going to be incapacitated for days at a time then I don't think I can continue to be a parent alone. The episode in the Capitol was not an isolated incident, nor was what happened at the Justice Building. I'll live with these problems for many years to come, maybe even the rest of my life. What was I thinking when I brought Gloria home?

In her sleep Gloria turns over toward the wall, unconsciously making more room for Katniss and me. I take hold of my wife's shoulder gently and nudge her to lie down, and then I lie down beside her. Katniss pushes Gloria's wavy hair out of the way as she settles down. I wrap my arm around Katniss' waist and hide my face just behind her head, trying to take slow, steady breaths even though my heart is breaking. I don't think I can bear it if Katniss sees that I have finally let the tears fall. She'll want to know why I'm so upset. Telling her will require a strength I just don't have right now.


	15. Consideration

Peeta:

My knuckles hit the headboard of the bed as I stretch from sleeping. I'm surprised when I see the sun up outside, but I guess I shouldn't be. Katniss insisted that I take my nighttime medicine before we went to sleep, assuring me that she would take care of Gloria if she woke up. If my mouth wasn't so dry, and I wasn't so groggy, I could say that I felt better.

I can hear small footsteps and light laughter from downstairs through the wood floor. I smile, but the feelings of inadequacy from yesterday remain. I try to push them away, thinking instead of all my fond memories of this house, this room, this bed. This is where I belong.

This is the home where Katniss and I have built our lives together. So many nights we've held each other close right here in this room. I made love to her the first time in this bed, fumbling nervously as I tried to show her how much I loved her. She didn't seem to mind my lack of confidence.

I had loosened the intricate braids the other women had spent so much time arranging so I could tangle my fingers in Katniss' hair. She looked so beautiful at the toasting and even more beautiful when she smiled up at me reassuringly from our bed. The tiny white flowers that had been interspersed in the braids had grown a little dried out by the fire. After I slipped Katniss out of her dress she giggled and said the flowers that had fallen on the sheet felt itchy against her back.

"You'd think they would feel soft," she whispered. "They're called 'baby's breath.'"

My face formed a shy smile, but I assumed she failed to grasp the symbolism of what she'd just said. I knew she didn't want babies and knew she'd taken precautions to make sure we wouldn't be having any right away. But I thought maybe someday she'd want a baby with me. Someday. The thought of having a baby with my wife stirred up even more excitement in me, which I didn't think was possible. Katniss' eyes were wide and vigilant, almost frightened as I held her head gently in one hand and smoothed her hair with the other. My chin tilted up just a little, and our eyes locked. Even the toasting hadn't silenced all my doubts.

Is this alright? Am I really what you want? Are you sure? 

When she slowly closed her eyes and pulled me closer in silent response I truly understood that her answers were "yes." Unmistakably "yes." Soon I forgot all about what might happen someday. In fact, we both forgot the whole world except each other.

"Thank you," she whispered to me afterwards, our eyes glazed over with the satisfaction we'd just found in one another. Despite the serenity that followed our lovemaking, I flinched a little at her gratitude.

She's thanking me for marrying her…for making love to her? I should be thanking her. This is what I've hoped would happen for years and something she's never wanted until recently! 

But she seemed so fragile that I pulled her closer and tried to put into words again just how much she meant to me. Our eyes soon fluttered closed in sleep, and when I woke up all those tiny flowers surrounded me, the "baby's breath."

As the memories fade, they are replaced with the aching realization that I don't want to be anywhere but right here with Katniss. If things had just happened in the normal way, without the Capitol meddling in our lives, maybe everything would have been okay. Our daughter would most likely have been conceived right here in this bed. Maybe the stress of parenthood wouldn't be too much for me. Katniss and I could raise our daughter together, complementing each other's weaknesses. That would make all the difference for me.

What should I say to Katniss now that I've failed both her and Gloria?

What will I say to Gloria? Poor Gloria.

Should I ask Delly or Haymitch what they think of my doubts about being a father?

As I twist the bedroom doorknob I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves before descending the stairs.

Appear normal. Don't let how scared you really are show. It's going to be okay.

Near the bottom of the stairs I catch sight of Gloria. She walks on tip-toes around the coat rack near the backdoor. Then she hides behind a coat, peeking past a sleeve. On the floor sits a small, worn, stuffed toy. It appears to be a rabbit, and I think it might have belonged to Prim. Gloria watches the rabbit intently, narrowing her eyes at it from behind the coat. Then she stealthily moves along the wall, her eyes trained on the toy the whole time. When she catches sight of me she instantly gives me a toothy grin, and before I can even say her name she's by my side. She throws her little arms around my leg.

"Daddy! Came back! Came back!" she says in an excited voice. Her smile is so wide that her eyes are squeezed shut with happiness. I swallow back the lump in my throat as I bend to pick her up and hug her in return.

"Yes, I came back. Of course, I did," I say, so happy to see her but still so confused.

I don't want to fail her. How can I take care of her yet cause the least damage? What a terrible question to have to ask.

Never one to stay in one place for long, even a place she's longed to be, Gloria suddenly pulls away and points to the rabbit with one hand. She places the other one gently across my lips to silence me. I realize she's resumed whatever game she was playing when she lowers her head a little and forms the fingers of the hand that has been pointing into a "shh" gesture at her own mouth. She wiggles until I put her down and then gives me a coy grin before bounding toward the rabbit and catching it in her arms, giggling madly.

"I catch it! Katniss! Daddy! I catch it!"

Gloria bounces back to me in a quick motion that causes me to lose my footing for a moment.

"You sure did, Gloria. Good job," I congratulate.

"I catch the bunny. Katniss teach me," Gloria explains proudly, still clutching the rabbit.

"I see. Katniss is a good teacher," I tell her.

"Again, Daddy. Pweaase!"

"Alright," I say reaching for the rabbit. "Do I just help the bunny find a place to hide?"

She nods, and then dutifully hides behind the coat rack with her face to the wall.

When I call to her, "Turn around and find the bunny," she wants me to help her, not understanding or not caring that I actually already know where the bunny is hidden.

"Daddy loud," she whispers as she places her palms over her ears to illustrate her point. Her feet are light on the wood floors just like her mother's.

"Did Katniss tell you to say that?" I ask, struggling not to laugh and rolling my eyes dramatically.

She shakes her head, but my suspicions remain as I swallow another chuckle. Gloria's serious face morphs into a true scowl. I can't stifle the laughter any longer, so I sit down on the steps and let it out.

"Of course I didn't tell her to say that," Katniss says from behind us. I look over my shoulder to see that Katniss has nearly silently joined me in sitting on the steps and is slowly wrapping her arms around my chest. "The girl has skills. She knows a rabbit would hear you from half a mile away. You're loud, but I love you anyway." Katniss' lips brush my ear.

Gloria leans into me, her face softening. "Daddy. Love you," she says gently.

"I love you, too, Gloria," I whisper, kissing the top of her head as I pull her into a hug.

I'm not sure if I can ever let her go.

/

I try to get through breakfast without getting upset, but it's not easy. Our morning together was nearly ideal, and that makes everything I've been feeling more confusing. In other circumstances it would have been all my dreams come true. By mid-afternoon I can't stand being in the house anymore and tell Katniss I need to go and check on how the people at the Justice Building are doing. I left so abruptly, but Katniss doesn't know that. She probably figures I am just concerned.

The temperature has been steadily rising all day, melting away much of the snow. Once I'm at the justice building I run into the town doctor. She's carrying some supplies, and I offer to help.

"How's everybody from the school doing?" I ask as we walk to her office.

"Much better," she tells me. "Several were hurt pretty badly, but nothing that won't heal with time. Two of them will be staying with me at the office for a little while. Thom and some of the other men are going to help move them later today."

"Need any help with anything else?" I ask.

"No, but thanks, Peeta. Though I do want to talk to you about how you are feeling," she answers as she pulls open the door to her office. She closes the office door behind me, and invites me to sit down.

I sit, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. The doctor has known about my episodes for a while because she's been my doctor ever since she arrived in District 12 shortly after the war. I've never hidden anything from her. I've only seen her a few times though. One memorable trip involved getting stitches in my arm because I put it through Haymitch's living room window when I first got back home. But hearing about the episodes that plagued me and actually seeing one happen are two entirely different matters.

"I'm feeling better," I stammer nervously.

"I just wanted to be sure. You seemed very ill, especially the first day," she says, giving me a knowing glance.

"Oh, I hope I didn't disrupt the rescue efforts."

"No. Not at all, but I was worried about you. Haymitch was worried too."

I sigh deeply.

"Peeta, how often does something like that happen?" she asks.

"It depends," I tell her vaguely.

"And do the symptoms usually last so long?" she asks.

I don't answer. Her questions feel invasive. She's not my psychiatrist.

"What did I say?" I ask her curtly.

She cocks her head to the side as if she doesn't know what I mean, but she knows. I can tell.

"I say things. What did I say that bothers you?" I clarify.

Usually it's something I say that bothers people.

This time she's the one that lowers her eyes, and I've never seen a doctor do that before.

"You called out to several people who are dead, including your father."

I cringe inwardly. What a private moment for her to overhear, and God only knows who else overheard it.

"I loved him very much," I tell her. "It shouldn't concern you that I called his name like that."

"No, and that doesn't. What concerns me is that you were completely disoriented. You didn't remember that your father was dead. When Haymitch talked to you, you thought he was your father and answered him as if he were."

It isn't fair for her to corner me like this. Her district had one of the lowest casualty rates of the war. I wonder if she knows what it's like to lose people you love suddenly and violently.

"Well, Haymitch is the closest thing I have to a father left. My real father is probably buried in pieces somewhere in the meadow with almost everyone else I knew as a child," I tell her, an edge to my voice.

The doctor lays her hand on my arm.

"Peeta, you know what I mean. You didn't know who Haymitch was or where you were. I asked you your name a dozen times and only once could you say that your name was Peeta."

I pull my arm away from her and stare at my feet, the fake one in particular. I'm such a mess.

"Are you telling me this to embarrass me? Because if you are I don't understand why you would do that to me. I'm embarrassed enough already. I don't even know what happened or who might know about it." I feel my cheeks burning even more now.

"That's not why I asked to talk to you. I wouldn't do that. I'm only telling you this because you know I have to certify you as fit to remain Gloria's foster parent. I want you to understand why I feel I can't sign the form in all good conscience, given what I saw happening to you during the storm," she answers.

Before the storm the doctor had come to my house to see Gloria and give her some immunizations the orphan's home said she needed. She gave Gloria a check-up for the progress report I had to send also, but the doctor said she needed my medical records as well to fill out the form that required her to attest that I was healthy enough to continue to be Gloria's foster parent.

I feel like she's punched me in the gut instead of said one sentence to me when she says she can't sign the form.

"But…but…Gloria's my daughter," I tell the doctor as I sink into the chair just inside the door of her office.

"Your foster daughter," she adds. "The state doesn't expect foster situations to always work out, Peeta. Nobody will be surprised that this situation didn't, not with your medical history."

I swallow hard, and look up at her. At this point, I'm becoming angry as well as hurt. It really shouldn't matter if Gloria's my foster daughter or my daughter. She's still my daughter in my eyes, but apparently this doctor sees our relationship as disposable. Perhaps blood ties matter to her more than emotional commitments.

"No, Gloria's really my daughter, my biological daughter," I tell her, forcing myself to continue to look at the her so I can gauge her reaction.

She narrows her eyes just a little as if all of the implications of my revelation are hitting her at once.

"I see," is all she says. Then she asks, "And the reason for the foster care agreement is…?"

"To give Katniss and me more time to decide who should raise Gloria and to help keep the situation private," I tell her honestly, trying very hard not to become emotional and thereby give the doctor more ammunition against me. "I thought it was best for Gloria to be with me while we made a decision."

"And Katniss?"

I bristle at the prospect of telling this doctor anything private about my wife. Besides, telling her Katniss is Gloria's biological mother would mean going into the details of Gloria's conception, and I don't know how Katniss would feel about that. I may have already said too much. Simple math could make the doctor curious as to "how this happened" because Katniss was obviously not pregnant during the war or her trial. I decide it's better to let the doctor think someone else is Gloria's mother for now, even though I've never even been with anyone but Katniss.

"She wasn't sure what we should do," I admit. "But she helps with Gloria. She took care of her during this snow storm, for example."

The doctor doesn't question why Katniss might be unsure. She probably believes that I cheated on Katniss and conceived Gloria with another woman. I suppose the doctor can understand why Katniss might not want to raise Gloria under those circumstances. What a fine mess this lie is!

"You're just going to have to trust me that the situation is complicated," I tell the doctor. "But I'm definitely Gloria's biological father. She's mine. Yes, I'm nervous about my ability to raise Gloria, but I'm asking for help when I need it. Isn't that what a good parent does? Katniss and Haymitch help me. Gloria and I have a great support system. You have to understand that."

The doctor sighs.

"I still can't sign that statement saying you're stable Peeta. What I saw was definitely not a well-controlled condition. You were very sick, and if anything like that happens with your daughter in your sole care then she would be at risk. Even if Gloria's your biological daughter, the court could rule that you're not a fit parent. She could be taken…"

I throw my hand up to stop her, unable to listen to any more.

"Okay, I get it. Just…just don't say it."

I stand up abruptly, trying to get out the door as quickly as possible.

"Peeta, I didn't mean to…"

"Upset me?" I ask her, anticipating her ridiculous apology. "You didn't mean to upset me by telling me I'm not 'fit' to raise my daughter? How did you think I'd feel when you said that to me?"

I walk out into the cold before I say anything worse.

"Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you, Peeta?" the doctor says from behind me.

"No! None of this is easy for me, and I think you've done enough," I reply icily.

/

We decide to stay together that night at Katniss' house. If I'm going to lose Gloria anyway, what does it matter if I don't follow the foster agreement rules to the letter? Katniss doesn't know about the doctor's conversation with me, but she wants us to stay together so badly that I don't think she cares about any rules.

She knows I'm upset and asks me repeatedly what's wrong.

"I have a bad headache," is all I'll say.

Amazingly, Gloria falls asleep easily that night. Katniss drops down in bed beside me. She starts to kiss me soon after. I'm sure she's expecting me to return her affections, but I'm already on the verge of breaking down. Her kisses are loving and warm, and all I want to do is get lost in them to forget all my problems. I reach over for her, taking comfort in the softness and strength that is Katniss Everdeen. Her long hair falls against one side of my face, but I can't relax enough to enjoy being with her.

"I've missed you. Here," she says. "I've missed you everywhere, but especially here." Her voice is hopeful initially, but then she presses her lips together so that they almost disappear as she gazes into my eyes.

My sad eyes drop immediately to keep her from seeing right through me. I hate it when she does that. Katniss is so mysterious, and I am so easily read. She climbs to the side of me, choosing to sit crosslegged on the bed beside me.

"Alright, Peeta. I'm tired of you pretending there is nothing wrong. What's going on? You've been acting weird ever since you got back."

No, I'm not going to do this. Not now. I think.

Sitting up as well, I put my hands on her hips roughly, pulling her just a little closer to me. Sometimes Katniss likes that, and maybe tonight will be one of those nights. I'm watching her signals to see.

I get caught up in the idea of tangling our bodies together and making her forget her suspicions while I forget all my anxieties. It'll be beautiful. I can feel her gazing at me expectantly, but she's not waiting for what I'm thinking about. I squeeze her, and her hand moves to my thigh. I smile and lean into her.

"Not so fast," she says. "I want to know what's going on."

I kiss down Katniss' neck, feeling her other arm tighten where it rests on my back.

"Please, Peeta, I really want to know," she explains, but I can tell her resolve is weakening.

"Katniss, I just want to feel better for a little while," I run my fingers along the soft fabric of her nightgown where it covers the ridges of her hips.

"You're hiding," she tells me gently.

"Let me hide a little longer."

"Is that what you really want, to hide from me?" she asks.

I melt into her arms, and suddenly whatever temporary reprieve she could bring me pales in comparison to her emotional support. I need her. I need her in a thousand ways, but I need her to know about Gloria the most.

"No," I whisper, my voice unsteady. My inability to hold it together in front of my wife embarrasses me even though I know she'll understand. It's been a while since I've lost my composure like this. Usually when I do it's over grief for someone we've lost.

Someone we've lost. Oh, God. Gloria is going to be someone we've lost. Just in a different way.

"Whatever it is, it's okay," she tells me as she strokes my shoulder with her fingertips. Clearly she's becoming concerned at this point. "Just tell me what's wrong," she adds.

"I can't keep Gloria," I blurt out, finally choking on the last word, our daughter's name.

I turn into Katniss' arms, hoping to escape somehow. But there's no escape from this.

Katniss must have questions, but she doesn't ask them. She simply pulls me closer, and we hold each other.

Finally Katniss asks me, "Why not?"

"Apparently, I'm not a 'fit' parent. I had doubts myself, but today in town I had a conversation with Dr. Smith, and she even said so without me telling her anything about my own doubts," I confess.

"You mean that doctor in town?" Kantiss sputters. "Please! She doesn't know! How would she know? She hardly knows you, and she doesn't even have kids. You know they pay her a huge bonus just to work in 12. She doesn't care about any of us. We are nothing to her but a means to an end. All she cares about is money, and when she has enough of it she'll pack up her things and move somewhere where she can use it to live like some Capitol socialite."

"Wow, you really don't like her, do you?" I ask distantly.

"No, I don't. And more importantly, I don't trust her. She's overstepping her boundaries if she told you that you aren't a 'fit' parent."

Katniss' words are laced with fear in addition to anger. She rarely relaxes, always trying to protect us from a world she still views as mostly hostile. And, as she always does when feeling especially threatened, Katniss reverts back to the concept that we can do everything ourselves and don't need any help from anyone. It's Katniss and Peeta against the world! Sometimes she throws Haymitch in with us for good measure.

"She's the only doctor here, Katniss. I don't think you understand. She has to sign a form for that progress report I need to send the orphanage. The form is her formal declaration that she believes that I am healthy enough to be a foster parent, and she says she can't sign…"

"And why isn't Dr. Aurelius the one determining if you are a 'fit' parent?" Katniss asks angrily. "Whatever problems you have are the ones he treats, not Dr. Smith."

"Honestly, I never anticipated that there would be a problem with the doctor," I explain. "I'd been doing okay, except for the sleep deprivation, and Dr. Smith has been out to the house to see Gloria and me and never had any concerns, but then…"

"So what's the problem? What are her reasons for saying you can't keep Gloria?" Katniss demands, gritting her teeth as she waits for an answer.

"Calm down, Katniss. Let me explain. Something happened."

Katniss tightens her fists and pushes them against the mattress. I notice how red with frustration her face has become. I'm sad to see that she's so upset because she thinks I'm being treated unfairly. Katniss only thinks that because I've failed to tell her the complete story.

"Katniss," I begin slowly. "When I was away those few days, I had an episode."

Her shoulders drop about an inch and her eyes widen. This is what we'd been trying to prevent at home. To know that it had happened in public is upsetting to both of us.

"I know. I know, honey. This one was not as bad as some I've had based on what I've been able to gather, but Dr. Smith saw it. Apparently I was really disoriented and stayed that way for a long time. She's afraid for Gloria's safety if that happens when I'm caring for her."

Katniss suddenly lurches forward, burying her face in my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta. If anybody takes Gloria from you now it would be awful for both of you. I'm so sorry."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Those aren't the words I wanted to hear because the only way I can think of for Gloria to stay with me now is for Katniss to agree to take formal responsibility for her along with me. But Katniss hasn't offered to do that. In fact, her tone sounds more like losing Gloria is something she knew might happen. Still, Katniss is in tears at the thought of it. I wonder if the tears are flowing at the thought of what this will do to Gloria, or if Katniss is thinking of what losing Gloria will do to me? I hope they are for Gloria. Maybe there's still hope. But I cannot ask Katniss again to take on the role of Gloria's mother. Haymitch is right. This has to be Katniss' choice. It has to come from her. I wait for her to ask me the question I'm praying she'll ask, "What can I do to help?"

But instead she says, "I'm going to go and talk to Dr. Smith first thing in the morning. We'll straighten this out. You certainly are a fit parent. She just doesn't understand."

I sigh lightly, pulling back to kiss Katniss on the cheek. She's trying to help, but I know what Katniss is planning won't be enough. Every day we wait puts our relationship with Gloria at risk.

"I keep thinking of what going back to the Capitol would do to Gloria ," I confess.

"We won't let that happen," Katniss whispers. I hope she's right.

/

Haymitch:

The boy has been moping around, and the girl is hyped up. Usually the situation is reversed, so I'm keeping my eyes and ears open. At 9:30 in the morning I see the girl stomping up the path, and she's not wearing hunting clothes. She doesn't have her bow either, but her jaw is set with determination. She looks pissed off, and I pity whoever or whatever is going to get the brunt of her fury.

But I'm worried, so I make myself a potential target anyway.

"Morning, Sweetheart," I greet as she tries to pass me on the path.

"Haymitch," she says curtly.

"Where are you headed?"

"Town."

She hasn't stopped moving.

"How's Peeta? He's back to himself, isn't he?" I ask.

If Peeta hasn't told her about his episode in town then I'm causing trouble, but I warned him to tell her. And something's wrong. I have to get her to tell me what's wrong somehow. Talking about Peeta's episode seems the most logical choice for provocative conversation topics at the moment. Besides, I'm concerned about the child. Katniss needs to know about what happened to Peeta so she can watch out for Gloria.

Katniss turns on her heel, turning to walk toward me with just as much determination as she'd previously been walking toward town.

"Yeah, what about that? What in the world happened to him? That doctor in town is saying he can't raise Gloria. That he's not well enough! That he's not fit! Can you believe that?" She practically demands.

Yeah, I can believe that. In fact, I suspected that. I guess the older you are the more you worry about some things and the less you worry about others. I've been worried about that little girl all along. She's a good girl, but she could get into something dangerous if Peeta and Katniss continue handling the situation as they have been and Peeta has an episode. I'm not sure Peeta and Katniss are really prepared for that. It's one reason I'm so nosy. These two tend to worry about all the wrong things. They forget about the more important things, like the fact that they are stronger together than apart.

"Walk with me," Katniss orders. She's in rare form, but I begrudgingly do as she says. They matter that much to me.

"Was he really disoriented?" she asks.

"Definitely."

She huffs. Then she stops walking abruptly and turns toward me again, her hands making tight fists at her sides. I take a step back, wondering if she might use them. You just never know what Katniss might do when she's this upset and hearing something she doesn't want to hear.

"Why does everything have to happen to him?" she rants, "Haymitch, he doesn't deserve any of this! If anybody in the world is capable of being a wonderful parent it's Peeta! He deserves to be able to raise this little girl if that's what he wants. Nobody should be able to take that from him, and nobody should be able to take Peeta from Gloria either. This stupid town doctor thinks she knows him better than I do, than you do, than Dr. Aurelius does!" The seething rage I sometimes sense just below the surface of Katniss' emotions is boiling over, and it's not pretty.

"So, what are you going to do, Sweetheart? You gonna' go down there and tell that doctor how stupid you think she is? You think that will do Peeta or Gloria any good?"

Katniss takes a long, deep breath before she answers.

"Alright, Haymitch. Tell me what I should do." She stamps her foot and crosses her arms as she turns to directly face me.

I point my finger toward town. "You go down there, and you tell her what you are going to do for your husband and for your daughter. Tell her just how serious we both know you are about this."


	16. Battlefield

Katniss:

I push my full weight into the heavy door of Dr. Smith's office, causing the chains and locks that she uses to secure the building at night to clatter against the metal frame. She locks the place up like a fortress whenever she's not there, saying that there are prescription drugs that must be protected from theft. Who the heck does she think would steal her drugs in District 12? Besides, she gives the addictive ones out like candy to anyone who wants them whether they need them or not.

The secretary stands when she sees me enter the office, dropping her pencil as recognition washes over her face. She starts to wring her hands. I don't come to town often, and some people don't know how to react when I do.

"Nobody can go in there right now," the secretary warns as I approach the doctor's private office.

I know where to find the private office because Dr. Smith once met with Peeta and me there about our "birth control options." She bored me with her lecture, and I ended up choosing exactly what I'd planned to use all along despite her attempts to educate me. I ignore the secretary and turn the private office doorknob. The doctor's smooth voice can be heard through the door.

"Oh, yes I can," I say as I throw my hand over my head at the secretary dismissively. "She's my doctor,"

"But…" the secretary begins as she brushes my arm, probably in an attempt to grab it. I yank my arm away before she has a chance and throw open the office door. I find Dr. Smith talking on the phone. She smiles and holds up her index finger as she mouths, "One minute," to her secretary.

"Well, I've just had someone come into my office. I think I'm going to have to call you back," she says into the phone. "I can get back to you later this afternoon," she goes on as I tap my foot impatiently against the tile floor. "Yes, I'll be in touch."

I feel my hands form fists as Dr. Smith lowers the phone and looks at her secretary. Haymitch's voice calling me "sweetheart" runs through my head. He cautioned me not to make this situation worse for Peeta and Gloria, but my emotions veer more out of control with each passing second. I'm already seeing red, and the doctor and I haven't even spoken a word to one another.

"I told her you were busy, doctor," the secretary stammers. I roll my eyes at her deference to Dr. Smith, and the doctor cuts her eyes to me and glares.

"It's fine, Mandy. I was expecting Mrs. Mellark," the doctor explains, her eyes still trained on me.

I bet you were.

"She's not on the schedule," the secretary says quietly. "Should I cancel your 10:00?"

"No, this shouldn't take long," the doctor replies with an edge of condescension obvious in her voice.

The secretary closes the door gently. Dr. Smith's lavender lipstick smears a little as she runs the fingers of one hand across the lower part of her face and chin. I notice that the paint on her fingernails perfectly matches the lipstick. Right before she starts speaking the sides of her lips raise just a little as if she's made up her mind about something that she deems pleasant.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Mellark," Dr. Smith begins, motioning toward the seat in front of her. "What can I do for you today?"

My fisted hands rest uncomfortably at my sides. I don't sit. Anger and my usual difficulty communicating verbally combine to make my response a challenge. I struggle to form words.

"You have no idea what he's been through," I manage to say through clenched teeth. "You can't begin to comprehend the ways they tortured him." My dry tongue grazes the roof of my mouth out of revulsion. Even after years, I cannot forgive or forget what the Capitol did to my husband.

"Actually, I do, Katniss," Dr. Smith says as she shuffles the folders on her desk. She flips one open, and I notice that it's labeled "P. Mellark."

My head shakes, and before I can stop myself I slam my open hand on top of the folder.

"No you don't!" I scream.

Dr. Smith glances up at me with an odd smirk breaking across her face.

"Nobody knows. I don't even know!" I continue while simultaneously trying to interpret the smirk. "You can't do this to him. Not when he's recovered so much. Don't you understand? It'll set him back for who knows how long." I pause before continuing. "And this little girl, Gloria, she loves him so much." I can feel the lump rising in my throat, but I refuse to cry in front of Dr. Smith. Not sure of my ability to put my intentions into words, I go on, "And I'm going to help him. I mean, really help him."

"Katniss, if you are talking about the form Peeta requested for the progress report he needs to send to the orphans' home then I'm sure he's already told you that I can't sign that form. Nothing is going to change because you come in here enraged. Peeta's condition is not stable. Period. I won't sign the form. Not unless it is made worth my while. My silence will have to be made worth my while, also."

I shake my head defiantly. "Peeta's better. He's worked so hard and…" Then it dawns on me what she's said.

Worth her while?

Dr. Smith smirks again, and my head starts to feel light. I decide to sit after all, gripping the wooden arm of the chair beside me as I lower myself down.

"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing exactly what she's likely to say.

"You know what I mean. The news that Peeta has a daughter would be sensational at best and scandalous at worst. Are you ready for that, Katniss? I think that might set him back as well. Don't you?"

The doctor rests her elbow on the desk and leans her cheek against her knuckles so that her head tilts slightly. An image of Flickerman flashes in my mind. Amazingly, he escaped any associations he might have had with Snow and currently anchors the news in the Capitol. News. Gossip. Conjecture. All of that would happen all over again. The quieter Peeta and I remained, the more suppositions they'd create. The thought of being a public spectacle all over again makes me feel as vulnerable as I did the night Peeta and I rode into City Circle in that dark chariot wearing the flaming uniforms that Cinna and Portia designed for us. Just like that night, I won't show fear.

The girl on fire.

Dr. Smith smiles, oblivious to consequences of the battle she's just started.

"If you want me to sign that form and keep my mouth shut about Peeta's illegitimate child, then you need to make it worth my while."

I think of Peeta and Gloria and how the obstacles to their happiness have just increased exponentially.

Heartless. This woman is heartless. 

And my mind thinks back to the word "illegitimate." The urge to defend my daughter overtakes me.

"Don't say that about Gloria, that she's 'illegitimate,'" I tell the doctor. My voice sounds low and menacing to my ears, and I wonder how it sounds to hers. So much for the girl on fire. I'm transformed into the girl who loves her baby girl, even if she didn't meet that baby girl until age three. "Gloria's loved and wanted. You have no right to call her that."

The doctor scoffs. "I can and will say anything I want," she says. "But even if I say only what Peeta told me, the story is worth millions."

"And we'll deny every word of it," I counter.

"And the whole country will believe what they want to believe, just like they did the last time you two graced the covers of their newspapers and the screens of their televisions. Imagine how they will clamor to learn how Panem's star-crossed lovers have been torn apart by Peeta's infidelity and the child that resulted? Imagine if they learn you aren't even living together?"

Dr. Smith sits up straight and then leans back in her chair confidently.

"Gloria has not torn us apart!" My voices rises, and my nails dig into my calloused palms as my fists tighten again. "You don't know what you're talking about."

I want to defend Peeta and explain that Gloria is our child together, and that I'm just not sure about being a parent. Then I stop, not wanting to reveal any more information to this woman than she already knows. So I ask her for information instead.

"How much?"

"Two million," she answers immediately.

I audibly gasp, and the doctor smirks one more time.

"We don't have that!" I tell her honestly, my heart lurching in my chest. If she's going to blackmail us the least she could do is ask for an amount of money that's possible for us to deliver.

"Between the three of you, you should," she explains.

"Three?" I ask.

"Haymitch," she says wryly. "He'd give you anything, wouldn't he?"

I feel my whole body begin to shake with fury. This woman is threatening my entire world, but I push down the rage so I can choke out an appropriate reply.

"I need to talk to Peeta and Haymitch before I can commit," I say quietly. "This will take some time."

Dr. Smith closes the folder labeled with Peeta's name.

"Of course," she answers. "I'll be waiting for your call."

There's a gentle knock on the door behind me, and I hear the secretary's muffled voice.

"Your ten o'clock is here, doctor."

Dr. Smith reaches out her hand for me to shake it when we both stand, but I just stare at it for a moment before turning around to briskly leave the office.

/

As soon as I'm outside I look around me in every direction. I can see objects and people closing in on me, so much so that it makes me stumble back and then forward just a little. Then I hear my name, faint and distant sounding, as if it's traveling on the wind as it moves out of town, past the Seam and down into the valley. But the fear is the worst of what I experience. A stone cold fear seems to seep into my blood and travel all around my body, chilling me as if I'd hunted in the cold for hours.

Hunted in the cold. In my woods.

The grocer's face flashes in front of mine, and I feel gloved hands on my upper arms. I register a muffled version of my name that sounds both stunned and concerned at the same time, but I wrestle free from the hands. Whether they mean me any harm or not doesn't even matter. My woods are calling me, figuratively speaking, of course. The woods are the only place where I'll be able to think. So I run, and amazingly my numb feet and legs carry me through the street.

I pass the site where the Mellark Bakery once stood and recall how a committee in District 13 has proposed that a historical marker be erected there, marking the location of Peeta Mellark's birthplace. I think about the cold, metal marker and how it would inform generations to come about how Peeta saved lives in District 13 while imprisoned by the Capitol. What it won't reveal is the suffering he endured or how he later struggled to regain his sanity and his life. I should be happy they are grateful, that they appreciate my husband. But all I can be is angry and afraid. The quest for normalcy never ends, and it never will.

As I pass the side where the old ovens still partially stand I can almost envision Peeta's brother Graham working in the kitchen. We often stopped by for treats when we were training for the Quarter Quell. He'd stand leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and laugh at Peeta's jokes on good days. On bad days he'd try to raise our spirits with happy stories about when he and Peeta were young. Peeta would smile shyly or even blush, but he never told Graham to stop. I suspect he knew the stories made me feel happier. Graham's sweet wife and baby would be at the bakery occasionally when we stopped by, and Mr. Mellark always seemed to be close by when his grandson was in the bakery.

"Katniss, guess what the little fellow did today?" the older baker told me once. "Becki laid him on a blanket, and then he rolled right over toward me when I leaned over to say 'hello.'" His eyes glanced from Graham, to Peeta, to me, and back to the baby. Perhaps he was remembering when we were all so small. Time passes quickly when you are with those you love.

I can't keep thinking of the people we've lost or that we didn't have enough time with them. Not now. 

I run faster, taking the route Peeta watched me walk every day as I traveled from school to home throughout our childhoods. My legs start to warm, but my head feels even dizzier. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. The ruins of Gales' house come into view. Only the fireplace and parts of the foundation remain. How many times did I watch smoke rise from that fireplace in the cold months while Gale and I secretly divided meager amounts of game amongst our two families. He alwaysmade sure Prim and I had as least as much as he and his siblings had, even when he could have intimidated or taken advantage of me because I was younger. He knew about my Momma as well, knew his Mama was healthier. He never said anything to hurt me, but he did help me with the firewood and the laundry tub just like he helped his own Mama with them. But Gale's not here to rescue me anymore.

The snow iced over last night, and my boot crunches down into it deeply next to what's left of Gale's house. The superficial ice hits my leg just above my boot, scratching an icy path and making me jump. As I make for the end of the Seam, I note that my house fared only slightly better than Gale's. I've never compared them before now, but I don't like coming down here. One side of the brick front steps of my house are visible, and I stop in my tracks a momentary flash of Prim sitting there grasping a cloth doll Mama made her. She turns away and smiles up toward the sky. Then, rough-looking hands that I immediately recognize as my father's gently reach down and scoop her up in a single, confident motion. I can almost hear her laugh. My eyes grow wide, but I know it can't be real. I'm making things up in my head. The possibility of losing more of the simple life Peeta and I have managed to build for ourselves since the war has upset me that much.

Peeta picks up Gloria just like that.

I shake my head as if I can knock the memories around and expect them to stop haunting me. Then I walk with determination past the remains of my home, which nobody has thought to mark as the place of my birth. Perhaps killing Coin will forever make me controversial in the eyes of our government, and the truth is that I really wouldn't care if it did. I cross where the barrier between my woods and me used to stand, the fence that could protect but mostly did harm.

Peeta once said that the few survivors of the bombing who were from the merchant class crossed the fence along with the residents of the Seam. They managed to outrun the bombs and avoid the temptation of looking back to see the victims who weren't so lucky, the ones who screamed into the night sky during their last moments in this world. I suspect he heard that from Delly, yet I couldn't even imagine Delly telling a story so dark. Did she cry? Did she grieve? Surely she did, but she never seemed to do it for a moment around me. She sugarcoated the whole world as far as I could tell, just like she sugarcoated parenthood for Peeta and all those other people who took orphans under their wings at her behest. Peeta would say she didn't do that. He'd say she encouraged other people, but I had experienced Delly's suffocating optimism first-hand in District 13. And though I thought she was one reason that Peeta still lived and was sane enough to be my husband, I resented her hopefulness at times. I wondered if even she could find hope if faced with betrayal, loss, and blackmail on top of everything else we've already been through. And how would I feel if she could? Inadequate again? Inadequate because I couldn't see it?

I duck my head right where the fence used to be out of sheer habit and run for the tree line. Once I'm past the edge, nobody will find me if I don't want to be found.

/

My foot circles lazily where it dangles from the tree branch in the oak I've chosen as my hideaway. The air is growing increasingly cold. I've spent what feels like hours walking, climbing, and thinking. Neither hunger nor the thought of Peeta worrying about me has forced me out of the woods, but I know that I have to go home eventually. Avoiding the inevitable will not make it unnecessary.

Leaning the side of my head against the cool bark of the tree I try to clear my head and review my options. Before I went to see the doctor, I had truly believed that I could convince her to sign the form Peeta needed to keep Gloria. I figured that if I failed to do that I could enlist Dr. Aurelius in the fight. After all, he'd be most likely seen as the expert on Peeta's condition. But everything changed when Dr. Smith started asking for money for her silence. I had no remedy for that.

The doctor would probably tell the media that Peeta cheated on me, as she assumed he did. I wasn't sure which story Peeta and I would find more upsetting if it were released: the infidelity story or the real story. Famous people in the Capitol frequently cheated. In fact, what would make our story different is that nobody would be expecting a story like that about us. So in some ways, an infidelity story would be commonplace, maybe even boring to some. Peeta and I weren't even married at the time Gloria was conceived, and some would dismiss rumors of his supposed infidelity as irrelevant just on that basis.

However, an infidelity story would force Peeta into the role of someone he wasn't. He'd look like he did something wrong that he'd never done. But allowing the story of how the Capitol had abused us to become public was disturbing. There would be questions, so many questions. Speculation would be endless. We'd be victims, and I hate feeling like a victim. Gloria would be a victim as well.

That poor child, they'd say.

I was grateful for the protections put in place by the new government for children after the war. Anybody could say or write something awful about Peeta or me. We were adults, but because of Gloria's young age the media would barely be able to mention her if our story became public. The media couldn't take or publish pictures of her. The most they'd be able to say was that "a child resulted" from Peeta's supposed affair. The same would hold true if the Capitol was implicated in Gloria's conception, and as long as Gloria was living with Peeta, then media outlets could not disrupt her life by physically coming to his house. If they tried, Paylor could shut them down so fast that it would make their heads spin. But I also know that the practical application of any law can be complicated. Peeta and I would be shown no mercy when there was money to be made. Stories about Peeta and me would impact Gloria eventually, even if the media couldn't say exactly who Gloria was or show her face right now. The laws hadn't been tested much yet, and I certainly did not want my family to be the one that verified whether or not the laws truly protected children.

The afternoon sun is slowly beginning to sink, and I decide to jump out of the tree and head for Victors' Village. My route is winding to ensure that I encounter as few people as possible. My path takes me up behind Haymitch's house where I find him throwing his hand out to spread feed to the geese. When I get closer I realize that Gloria is standing behind him, holding on to the tail of his un-tucked shirt.

"Kat-niss!" she calls as she comes running down the hill to me. I swear that the child never walks! Her sweet face is so cheerful and happy that I can't help but smile.

Haymitch throws out the last of the feed, and follows her down to meet me.

"I guess I don't have to ask how it went," he says when he nears me. Haymitch is good at reading me.

"Worse than you think," I answer.

I can see his breath form a soft white cloud of relative warmth in the cold air. Gloria is hanging on to my leg with one arm with both feet firmly planted next to mine. And she's swinging back and forth using me for leverage, giggling when she starts to lose her grip just a bit. All of it pulls me hard to one side.

"Gloria, sweetie. That hurts." She simply giggles a little more.

"She still refuses to sign it, even after you told her you were serious about taking care of this one," Haymitch asks. He motions down to Gloria.

"I didn't get to talk about that much before she threatened me," I tell him.

Haymitch's brow furrows.

"She threatened me," I continue.

"What the hell does that mean?"

I feel a pinch at my leg where Gloria's been holding me.

"Ouch!" I call out as I jerk my leg away. Gloria tumbles over and starts crying. I rub my leg where it was most likely pinched by her chubby little hand as she was swinging, but when I see the large tears falling down her rosy cheeks I reach for her. She's cold.

"Let's go inside. I'll explain."

And I do. While Gloria watches the new capitol and District 13 cartoons that teach kids their ABCs instead of propaganda, Haymitch and I sit at his kitchen table and talk about the doctor and her threats. The sink couldn't hold another dish, and my shoes stick to the floor when I take a step, but at least I don't see any broken liquor bottles.

"I know she means it. She's a greedy…" I say, referring to the doctor.

"No doubt about that," Haymitch interrupts. "I wonder how long we have."

"Not long," I speculate.

"You tell the boy yet?" Haymitch asks.

"No."

"You know you can't keep it from him. He hates that."

"I only keep things from him to protect him," I argue.

"Is that so?" Haymitch says raising an eyebrow. "I used to tell myself the same thing."

I roll my eyes, but Haymitch grabs my hand.

Haymitch's expression is deadly serious when I look at him again, more serious than at any time during this entire conversation. Whatever has captured his thoughts is about more than money and public scrutiny.

"I'm serious, Katniss. Keeping things from Peeta didn't turn out so great for me," he pauses and sighs, "or him." Haymitch presses his lips together thoughtfully before continuing. "So you better think long and hard before you keep anything from that boy."

I watch Haymitch for a moment. He seems to be remembering things that I wish he'd forgive himself for, and even though I know that telling him again that Peeta has forgiven him won't do any good, I almost want to do it anyway. There's not really time for that, though.

"Telling Peeta won't be so hard if I have a plan about what to do about it all," I explain.

Haymitch somehow refocuses on developing a plan. He's good at recovering well from a moment of emotional pain, but I think the pain revisits him later. That's one reason he drinks. He can't cope with that insidious, solitary pain that always returns.

"Well, what are you going to do about it all? I mean, besides inventory everything you own to see if you have enough money to pay her off and help me do the same."

"No, that's one thing I'm not going to do," I tell him. "She'll never stop. Ever."

"That may be true, sweetheart. If she's got a mind to do it, she can hold this over all of you for the rest of her life."

I bring my hand to the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. After a minute or so I lower my hand to the wooden tabletop and begin running my fingertips along the wood grain.

"I think we should try to get Aurelius to attest to Peeta's health. If the orphans' home had been that concerned about these episodes they never would have released Gloria to Peeta in the first place," I point out.

"That sounds like a start," Haymitch tells me. He pauses, and then he looks over at Gloria who's still watching the TV. "You know what else would be a good start, Sweetheart?"

"What?" I ask absentmindedly. I'm thinking mostly about what to do about Dr. Smith's threats.

"Signing something official saying that you'll take care of that little girl," he says gently. "That would make it so much harder for anyone to take her away from Peeta. What do ya' think of that idea?"

And deep down, I know Haymitch is right. I should make my willingness to take care of Gloria official. What I don't know is why I still can't openly admit to myself or anyone else that that willingness exists, but that question matters very little while Haymitch's older and wiser eyes stare at me expectantly.

My heart speeds up as I answer him, "I'll think about it. I promise."


	17. It Begins Again

(AN: So sorry to take so long – but hopefully it will be worth it)

 

Katniss

When I reach the porch I can tell that Peeta’s been baking. I hang up my coat. The house sounds eerily quiet with only the mantel clock ticking in the living room. I’ve become so accustomed to the sounds of Gloria’s feet on the creaking floorboards as she runs from room to room. She still communicates as much with her movements and gestures as her words, and I’ll probably miss the subtle ways she wordlessly gets her point across when she becomes even more verbal. Her physical openness and animation make her unique. She’s charming like her father, but by a slightly different means. I could have ten children, and none of them would be like Gloria.   
I’m brought out of my unexpected musings by the sudden thought that Peeta must have brought Gloria to Haymitch for a reason.   
“Peeta?” I call to him as I search the lower level. “Peeta!” My voice gets louder as my anxiety grows.  
Several loaves of bread cool on the racks sitting on the table, but the oven is off. There’s no sign that dinner has been started.  
“Peeta!”   
I’m starting to become disorganized with panic when I hear the back door open. Peeta stands there in the doorway in just his blue thermal shirt and the pants he wears for chores outside. I throw myself into his arms before either of us can speak. His chilled hands wrap around my waist and come to rest on the skin where my shirt rises above the top of my trousers. I shiver.  
“You okay?” he whispers in my ear before brushing back the messy locks of hair that have fallen at the sides of my face and kissing me gently. I unraveled my braid hours ago while sitting in the tree in the woods. “You’d been gone so long that I decided to go look for you,” he goes on. “I took Gloria to Haymitch.”  
“I…I saw Gloria with him. They are doing fine, and I think it’s a good time for us to talk, Peeta.”  
My heart pounds in my chest. I never thought telling him would be so nerve wracking, but I trust Peeta more than anyone.  
“Something happened to me during the storm, too. To us. To Gloria and me.”   
Peeta’s eyes look into mine worriedly.  
“Okay,” he replies cautiously.   
“I want to take care of her, Peeta. I want to…” I pause, not knowing how to say it. “I want to raise her. With you.” I’m not good at putting what I mean into the right words.   
“Are you sure?” Peeta asks. “Together?”   
“Yes, together,” I answer.  
He pulls me even closer and kisses my forehead fiercely.   
The tightness I’d been feeling in my chest loosens despite the fact that I know that we have some obstacles ahead of us before we can happily settle into a peaceful life with our daughter. Peeta’s eyes seem to dance with joy when he takes a step back to look at me. I find myself delighted by his hopefulness. Peeta has always given me strength when I felt most desperate, but even he has doubts sometimes. And as I watch his enthusiastic smile transform into a flat expression I realize that he’s having some right now.   
He releases me from his embrace and lets his hands fall to his sides. “Are you doing this for me?” he asks simply. “I don’t want you to do it just for me.” His voice is hoarse with emotion.  
“No, I’m doing this for all of us. For you, for me and for our daughter. Especially our daughter.”  
He looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes that have always had a strange ability to mesmerize me, even before I knew he loved me or that I loved him. They look misty and red. Perhaps they’d been that way before I started this conversation, and in my nervousness about telling him how I felt about Gloria I failed to notice. Even after I’ve reassured him about my motives Peeta’s eyes cut to the side, revealing a shadow of lingering doubt. He’s thoughtful for a long moment.  
Then he walks with determination across the room and reaches for the dark blue folder that holds the paper from the orhpans’ home. My anxieties surface again because I’m still not sure about being a mother, but what I now recognize is that I already am a mother whether I want to admit that or not. Gloria is mine, and she’s living here in Victor’s Village. I see her every single day, share in taking care of her, and worry about her well-being. She’s my daughter. I think I’ve known since the storm, that no matter what, I could never let her go.   
Peeta turns and walks slowly back across the room to where I am still standing. He opens the folder and pulls out a pen that’s tucked in the folder with the papers. Peeta then pulls a specific paper from the folder, seemingly knowing exactly where it was located. He lifts his face to watch me and holds out the pen and paper.  
The title “Continued Foster Care Agreement” adorns the top of the paper.   
“Then sign this,” Peeta encourages me gently as he points to a line labeled “foster mother’s signature (if applicable).” I notice that Peeta’s signature already occupies the “foster father’s signature” line. The date beside his signature indicates that he signed his name a week ago.   
“Oh, Peeta. This isn’t what I meant,” I tell him, wishing I could be better at explaining.   
His jaw drops for a moment before he takes in a sharp breath.  
“But Katniss!” Peeta says as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and shakes his head slightly. “What did you mean then? I can’t deal with any more of this.” He isn’t looking at me.  
I reach for Peeta, wrapping my arm around his waist.  
“No, no. You don’t understand. I want to sign something that recognizes Gloria as our daughter. Not as a temporary situation. Ours, for always.”  
Peeta turns to me; his eyes full of unshed tears, tears that I know were born of another round of frustration at my inability to commit to caring for our daughter. Now they can become tears of joy.   
“Really?” he says. “Always?”  
“Yes. I want to raise her here with us. This is where she should be. I want everyone to know she is ours. I understand all that now.”  
Still holding the paper and pen Peeta envelopes my shoulders in his strong arms. He feels slightly damp with tears and sweat when he pulls me to him this time.   
“Then I know you are doing it for all of us. I know. I’m so glad I know,” he breathes out. “I don’t think anybody will try to take Gloria away if you do this Katniss. We really will be able to keep her always. Katniss, thank you. I know you had doubts. Maybe you still do,” he pauses and takes a deep breath, seemingly nervous about whatever it is he wants to say. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so grateful that you are willing to do it anyway.”  
“I’m still afraid,” I admit hesitantly, my voice trembling. He’s not able to see my face, thank God. Peeta kisses my neck lovingly as he tangles his fingers in my hair. “But I’m not alone. I have you. We have each other.”  
I don’t even realize I’m crying until a tear runs down my cheek.  
“I feel so guilty now, like I didn’t love her enough before now.”  
Peeta stops his affectionate gestures in the middle of a kiss.  
“No, Katniss. Don’t say that,” he says sadly, cheek against my tearstained one. “Gloria is so close to you. Sometimes I think she’s closer to you than me. You’ve tried very hard to be important in her life even with all your uncertainties. Don’t feel bad. You had to be sure. That was protecting Gloria. That’s just what you do, and Gloria’s going to need us to protect her.” He lowers his voice. “Life hasn’t been easy for her, and it won’t be in the future either. Can you imagine growing up as the daughter of the two of us?”  
“Yeah,” I say thoughtfully. “About that.”  
Peeta notices the change in my demeanor and steps back. He gently squeezes my upper arms with his hand and then kneads the muscles as well. It’s something he does when he knows I’m tense.   
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I admit. He nods, apparently not surprised by this. “My visit with the doctor didn’t go as planned.”  
“What happened?” he asks, still looking quite content with all our plans. “I know the Doctor had some concerns about me but now that you have decided to...”  
“That’s not what concerns her now, Peeta.”  
I tell Peeta the whole story, just like I told it to Haymitch, leaving nothing out. When I’m finished he sighs.   
“If people would just leave us alone,” he growls, and I can see the angry glint in his eye.  
“I know,” I say. “But we couldn’t have anticipated that she would try this.”   
“I shouldn’t have told her what I did!” Peeta says. “I certainly shouldn’t have implied that Gloria might be only my daughter, but I thought I was protecting you,” he explains, resting his head in his hands.   
“Well, sometimes trying to protect each other gets us in trouble, doesn’t it?” I admit.  
“That’s certainly true,” he agrees pensively.   
“But I have a plan, Peeta. I want to take this power Dr. Smith thinks she has over us away from her so she can’t ever hurt us again. Other people might try. They always will, but she won’t have any weapons anymore if we take away the power she has. And the power she has is just that we’ve kept this a secret. The fact that we have a daughter would come to light eventually anyway. Let’s just tell the world ourselves.”  
Peeta’s mouth drops open. He knows how private I am. I have not done a single interview since the war despite having been asked hundreds of times. He probably looks so shocked because he can’t believe I would suggest going public about such a private matter as our daughter.   
“Would you be okay with that, Peeta? “ I ask. I need to know how he feels about this. We’re going to need to be on the same page. “There will be questions. People will speculate. Some people will try to make the story more scandalous.”  
“I don’t know, Katniss. The truth is pretty shocking,” Peeta adds.   
“But we have to be prepared that they’ll question what we tell them. They’ll question what they know of the truth, Peeta. They’ll try to say she’s not mine or not yours so they can pit us against one another in their stories. The prospect of spreading rumors about us being unfaithful to each other is too tantalizing for them to resist. They’ll talk about the things the Capitol did or may have done if they have any inkling that they were involved at all. It’ll be hard to listen to what they’ll say.”   
“Then we won’t listen. We’ll tell the truth, and we’ll tune out everything they say for as long as we have to do it,” he says solemnly.  
“You think you can do that?” I ask. “I know that when I was the Mockingjay I tried to ignore so much of what was happening and only focus on what I had to do to get us through the war. It was nearly impossible.”  
He looks tired as he places his elbow on the kitchen table and rests his cheek on his closed fist. Peeta came back to me in so many ways, but he’ll probably never have the mental stamina he once had. Still, he uses every bit of strength he can for my good, and now for Gloria’s. “But we didn’t have each other then, Katniss. We’d been separated, pulled a part. This will be different. We’re stronger together.” Though his eyes look weak, he smiles reassuringly at me.   
I think about what he was saying, remembering how I felt in District 13. Even with Gale and Prim nearby every day, I couldn’t cope with being in the spotlight. Ironically, I was more alone in that spotlight of being the Mockingjay than I’d ever been as a starving girl in District 12 or a terrified tribute in the arena. But I’m not lonely with Peeta. Even when we disagree, we always manage to find our way back to each other. I know he loves me, and I love him. He’s right. This time will be different. We’ll have each other.   
“Okay then.” I look at him and square my shoulders. “I think we have a plan.”   
///

Haymitch

The kids’ plan made sense. Releasing the story themselves gave them control of what story was told, at least initially. I called Effie and told her everything that had happened since she’d last visited. She immediately agreed to help in any way she could, so I asked her to provide public relations support and advice.   
I also asked her to monitor the news coverage and hire an assistant if necessary to help keep the media onslaught that would follow Peeta, Katniss and especially Gloria in check. I wanted to make absolutely sure that we documented any violations of the newly enacted child protection laws. If violations occurred, and we fought them immediately, then we’d discourage further violations of Gloria’s rights. Effie and I had a vested interest in protecting Gloria, but we also wanted to use this opportunity to put the laws to the test so that they could continue to protect all the future children who would be thrust into the media spotlight.   
Peeta and Katniss rightfully wanted to avoid having to endure listening to the shit the news agencies would say about their family. Just hearing a vague version of the truth aired on national television would be traumatic enough! So I called Cressida and asked her to handle the initial news release. Of course, I had to tell her the whole story in order for her to understand what she was really up against. Though shocked by what Peeta and Katniss were going through, she expressed her sincere desire to help them. I hoped others would be so supportive.  
“Haymitch, do you think it would be all right if I sent their daughter a gift? It seems like it would be appropriate to welcome her to their family as we would any child,” Cressida asked.  
I thought for a moment.   
“Well, I don’t see why not,” I told her. “It might make everything seem a little more normal for them to receive a gift from a friend, but I do have one piece of advice.”  
“Yes?” Cressida asked.  
“Give her something that would be useful out here in District 12.”  
///

Peeta

The only news media coverage we plan to watch is this initial press conference announcement. It’s the one that we have the most control over. Cressida arranged, planned and is directing it. There will be no questions. Delly will represent us, and provide the information to the reporters.   
I wait anxiously in front of the television for the program to begin. “Good morning,” Delly says. She’s addressing the assembled media from a podium set up on the lawn outside the orphanage where Gloria lived before I brought her home. Delly looks very businesslike in a smart suit.  
Katniss sits down on the sofa beside me. She passes me a cup of tea and twists her arm between my arm and body so that she can easily intertwine our fingers. I can feel her shaking, and I pull her in closer to me. I take a sip of tea and jump when it burns my tongue. Katniss squeezes my hand.   
“Sorry. Too hot?” she asks. “You all right?”  
I nod without speaking. It seems I am just as nervous as Katniss.   
“My name is Delly Cartwright, and I’d like to welcome you to the Central Orphans’ Home here in the Capitol,” Delly begins. “To give you a little background, this is one of the many orphans’ homes throughout Panem that cares for children who have no home or family they can call their own. Most of the children here lost their adult family members during the war. Others have lost their parents due to illness or unfortunate circumstances. The organization that I represent, The Family Reunification Society, attempts to locate and reconnect these children with family members who survived the war. We also work to place children in suitable foster homes, which sometimes results in a child finding a new family. If you are unsure of the whereabouts of any of the children in your extended family, I would encourage you to contact my organization. Even if you know you cannot raise a child, you could be the key to unlocking a child’s personal history. These children want to feel connected so much. Even exchanging letters and pictures with extended family can mean the world to them.”  
Delly shifts her feet back and forth and then looks up from the paper she’s holding. So far her presentation has gone well. She looks professional, authoritative and concerned.   
“However, today I am not just here to highlight the needs of Panem’s orphaned children. Today I am here on behalf of my friends, Katniss Everdeen Mellark and Peeta Mellark,” Delly continues.  
There’s an audible gasp, and I can see several reporters sit up straighter and a few others raise their audio equipment a bit higher at the mention of our names.  
“Some months ago the Mellarks discovered a personal connection to a young child who was living in the Central Orphans’ Home behind me. In fact, they discovered that she is actually their child. They wisely took a short period of time to allow themselves and the child to adjust to this news while establishing and maintaining contact at the pace appropriate for each of them. Today I am happy to report that the Mellarks have decided to take permanent custody of their child and are fully integrating her into their lives and home. ”  
The reporters fall completely silent, and I know how rare that is from my experience with the media as a tribute and victor. I can almost see the questions forming in the reporters’ heads. Before they can be asked, Delly continues.   
“The Mellarks have stated that it is their wish that their family’s privacy be respected at this important time in their lives. I will not be answering any questions. Thank you for your attention,” Delly finishes. She walks briskly off the stage as the reporters bombard her with questions despite her announcement that she wouldn’t be answering any.   
Immediately a news reporter appears on the screen discussing the “shocking revelation” of the conference. “As of now, all we know is that the star-crossed lovers from District 12 have a child together. We have no idea how old that child is or where she has been living. We do not know how she was separated from her parents or when. We do not know if her parents believed that she was dead or not…”  
I reach for the button that turns off the TV. Katniss places her hand over mine.  
“You want to watch it?” I ask her worriedly, hoping she doesn’t. The last thing I want is for Katniss to be upset again. These stories will make her sad.  
“They are making so many assumptions already, Peeta.” she sighs.   
“I know. They will keep making them. Most of them will be wrong. Even the questions are wrong.” I answer. “But we expected this.”  
“Do you think it would be better if we told them more about how Gloria was conceived? Or that we didn’t know about her? Or any of that?” she asks.   
I think for a long moment before answering her. We’d taken a lot of time to prepare what we wanted Delly to say. We’d consulted Haymitch, Beetee, and Effie.   
“No, some information is private, Katniss. I don’t want to reveal all that to the whole world. There’s a risk that I will have to do it in the future for Gloria’s sake or for yours, but right now I don’t want to say any more than what Delly just said. What about you?”  
“I don’t want those people on television talking about us like that,” she says softly.  
“They always have, honey. They’ll never stop. We’ll always be news worthy to them. But that doesn’t mean we have to pay them any attention.”  
Katniss looks down to where her hand rests on mine and then presses my finger against the button to turn off the television. The screen turns black.  
///

Haymitch

News travels fast. District 12 is already buzzing with gossip about Peeta and Katniss having a daughter by the time I reach town shortly after the announcement. But when people see me walking by they stop whispering. They know Peeta, Katniss, and I are close.   
With Peeta’s permission, I had spoken to Thom earlier, and arranged to meet him at the town square, and from there we walk together to our intended destination.   
Thom opens the door to Dr. Smith’s office, and I walk inside first. Dr. Smith is standing in the hallway and turns immediately toward us, something like apprehension blooming in her eyes when she sees me.   
“What can I do for you today Mr. Abernathy?” she asks as she stares me down, trying to fake a cool façade.  
“You can get the hell out of District 12,” I answer her.  
She smirks. “And why would I want to do that?”   
“You might want to ask your secretary to leave because this conversation is about to get personal,” Thom adds.  
The secretary doesn’t have to be asked. She stands and walks out the side door to the office after nodding at her boss. I’m not entirely convinced that she isn’t going to find friends of Dr. Smith to be her protection, though. She may be gone a while because I don’t think Dr. Smith has many friends.  
“This is my assigned district. I’m not allowed to leave without notifying my supervisors. Besides, who are you to tell me where to live and work?” the Doctor continues.   
“Speaking as the Mayor of this District, I have to agree with Mr. Abernathy,” Thom tells her plainly. “I’m going to ask you to leave because I think it would be best for the District if you did. However, if you choose not to go, then I’ll just file a formal complaint against you instead. I may eventually do that anyway, depending on what Katniss wants to do.”  
I jump into the conversation to elaborate.  
“Katniss doesn’t think it’s worth it to sue you for trying to blackmail her. She says that’s not worth her trouble, and she’d rather stay here with her daughter.”  
“Her daughter, eh?” Dr. Smith asks. “Interesting.”  
I turn to Thom and slip my hands in my jacket pockets.  
“I guess she doesn’t know yet, Thom,” I tell him for her benefit.   
“No, apparently not,” Thom agrees, following my facetious lead.   
The doctor narrows her eyes and takes a step forward. Thom and I both turn to look at her.  
“Know what?” she asks with sudden concern.  
“Peeta and Katniss just had it announced on national television that they have a daughter,” Thom explains.   
The doctor’s jaw drops and her eyes widen.  
“And Katniss told me about what happened with you. How you threatened Peeta and then requested payment from her to keep quiet about their daughter, even though you are supposed to keep quiet about anything patients tell you in private anyway. What do they call that, Haymitch?”  
“A breach of confidentiality, I believe. A deliberate one. Not to mention a breach of ethics,” I answer. “I think you can lose a medical license for that, can’t you Dr. Smith?”  
She casts her eyes down for a moment. She realizes she is trapped.   
“So you want me to leave the district?”  
“That’s right. Tonight, if possible. I’ve bought you a ticket as far as the Capitol. My treat,” Thom tells her. I turn my head, press my closed fist against my mouth, and clear my throat to keep from laughing out loud.  
Thom holds out the ticket, and Dr. Smith reaches out to take it from him.  
“I’ll meet you here at 7 PM to walk you to the station,” Thom tells her. “You might need me. Some people around here are kind of protective of Katniss and Peeta. Word might get around about how you threatened them. You just never know what somebody might do.”  
I know the likelihood of anybody attacking Dr. Smith is low, but I also know that Dr. Smith thinks of District 12 as a backward place where she doesn’t feel comfortable. Thom making her feel even more uncomfortable is downright amusing.  
Dr. Smith crosses her arms across her chest defensively and looks down at the floor, fear written all over her face. She nods. The conversation appears to be over.  
Thom and I walk out into Main Street, and I slap him on the back of the shoulder.  
“That was perfect. Thank you. I know they’ll appreciate that,” I tell him.  
“No problem. You know those people I mentioned who want to protect Peeta and Katniss? I’m one of them.” Thom grins.   
///

Peeta

When Haymich brings Gloria home after the announcement, I just want to hold her and protect her from the whole world. For a while she lets me hold her, but then she asks to get down and play. She never can sit still for long. She is just like her mother in that way. I had to let her go. Katniss came to sit down beside me, and we watched our daughter chase Buttercup before it was time to make dinner. Katniss looked worried and sad. She even cried a little. I held her too.  
Haymitch joined us again later for dinner, and we ask him how the media coverage had been so far. He says it is nothing that would surprise us. After dinner Haymitch stands up to head home. As I walk him out to the porch, he turns to me.   
“You know kid” he says “You’ve done good. You and the girl. I’m proud of you both for how you’ve come through this and what you’re doing for Gloria. I know your folks would be proud too” and before I can say another word he’s gone, stumbling down the path and shouting at the geese as he heads across his own yard back to his house.   
I turn and go back inside. I stand quietly for a minute, just watching my wife and my daughter as they sit with their heads close together on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The picture looks right. We feel like a family now, and my heart feels full.   
I cross the room to join them, and as I meet Katniss’ eyes, I smile at her. It’s time. We decided earlier we’d talk to Gloria before we put her to bed tonight.   
“Gloria, honey” I say, sitting down beside them and lifting her onto my lap. “I think Katniss has something she wants to ask you”.   
“You do?” Gloria asks, looking up at Katniss with wide, innocent eyes.   
“Yes, Gloria”, she says looking at me again. I nod to encourage her. She takes a deep breath.   
“What would you think if you and me and Daddy all stayed here together in this house together, from now on? Do you think you would like that? ”   
“All of us?” Gloria says. “And Buttercup would be my cat?” she asks.   
“Sure” Katniss smiles. “He can even sleep on your bed, if you like”.  
“I’d like that!” Gloria beams jumping off my lap to throw her arms around Katniss’ neck.   
“Then it’s settled” says Katniss, smiling over at me.   
“Katniss?” Gloria adds. She looks from Katniss, to me, and back to Katniss again. She looks a little shy.  
“Do you have something you want to ask me, honey?” asks Katniss.   
“Can I call you my Mama?” She asks quietly in her little voice.  
The tears shine in Katniss’ eyes, as they meet mine over Gloria’s head, and I can barely contain my own happy tears from falling as she hugs our daughter close and softly answers, “I’d like that very much”.   
We don’t explain anything because we don’t have to explain. We don’t ask any questions because none of them would matter. We’re just going to enjoy what we have. All of us. 

The End (to be followed by an Epilogue!)

Please see my new story “Unfailing Love” – two chapters are already available on fanfiction dot net. Follow me on tumblr for the latest updates on all my stories. I am “knottedenergy” there as well.


	18. Epilogue

Gloria comes bounding down the stairs wearing her favorite dress, a green cotton one with small pink flowers on its thin white collar. Her socks are mismatched in a way I'd notice but probably nobody else would. Over them she's slipped on her low boots. I lean down to tie the laces when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, grateful she hasn't tripped. I've told her we'll go get ice-cream after our "errand," so she's very excited.

"Daddy braided my hair!" Gloria squeals as she shakes her head back and forth proudly. Her two braids alternately smack her lightly in the face as Peeta laughs.

"I'm not sure I did as good a job as your Mama, Gloria," he tells her.

As the three of us walk out of the house I consider how I once believed this day would never come. I know Peeta feared it wouldn't. Today Gloria will officially be recognized as our daughter and a resident of District 12. We're all surprisingly quiet during our walk to town, even Gloria. She can't understand the meaning of all this, but she must sense something important is happening.

The sun warms my shoulders as we near the Justice Building. As I enter I'm grateful that this new building doesn't bear any of the terrible memories of saying goodbye that the old Justice Building would have borne for Peeta and me. Gloria stamps her little feet extra loud on the polished stone floors and listens as the sound of her steps echoes off the four walls and high ceilings of the buildings atrium. During the building's construction Peeta and I came here to get our marriage license. At the time only a small room was finished enough for use. Like most of District 12 the building barely existed then, yet visiting it was essential to starting our married life together. Now, we visit to finalize a new phase of life.

We stop at the records office where the clerk grins at us. Everyone knows who we are even if we don't know them by name. Gloria jumps up and down and asks Peeta how many ice-cream flavors she'll have to choose from while I talk to the clerk. I don't have to say much.

"Mellark, right?" She asks as she shifts a folder across her small desk toward me. "The papers arrived yesterday."

I glance at the crisp white papers and then read them thoroughly. They finalize the transfer of custody of "Gloria Robertson" from the Central Orphans' Home to "Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen Mellark, her biological parents." They make no mention of Helena, and I knew they wouldn't. Peeta and I plan to make sure that Gloria never forgets Helena, though. These papers don't erase Gloria's past. They officially establish her future.

"Is everything correct?" the clerk asks.

"Yes, but we need a name change form also."

"No problem," she answers.

She puts the form in front of me, and I carefully write out our desire to change Gloria's name to "Gloria Helena Mellark." Yes, it's a Capitol sounding name except for the last name, but Gloria is a District 12 girl in the making. That's what matters. Peeta's teaching her to write her name as part of her "art lessons." I'm just thankful he's breaking her of writing on the walls with her crayons, a habit she picked up a month or so ago.

I sign my name confidently and then pass the pen to Peeta. The clerk signs her name as our witness. Then she looks at Gloria.

"Did you know that you can sign these papers too?" she asks Gloria. "The law says you can."

Panem's new government has been very careful to recognize the value of those that the old government devalued, including the very young and the very old. That recognition includes small gestures like including children, at least symbolically, in all legal matters pertaining to them. The new ways of doing things aren't perfect, but they show a certain respect for people as human beings that the old Panem never showed. The respect trickled down to even Peeta and me, recognizing us as victors and war veterans. "Victor" had come to mean in the Capitol what it always had meant in the districts. A victor was merely a victim who had been forced to victimize others but survived to escape the arena only to endure further victimization.

The clerk circles around her desk and kneels down, "Gloria, these papers say that you will live with your Mother and Father, Katniss and Peeta until you are grown up. If you like that idea then you can draw on the paper just like your Mother and Father did."

It strikes me as odd for a four year old child who can't quite write her name to be asked to do this, but that is the way of change. The pendulum often swings from one extreme to another. I don't really disagree with my daughter's new "right" to state her opinion, but I wonder if she'll even understand what the clerk is saying.

"I want Mama and Daddy," she says.

That's enough for the clerk. She puts the paper on the chair beside Gloria and gives Gloria a pencil.

Gloria scribbles a "G", and then she starts to draw something. Maybe a person? Peeta laughs. I shake my head.

When her chubby hand stops moving the pencil around the clerk says, "Finished?"

Gloria nods.

After going to get the promised ice cream Gloria wants to visit Haymitch, so we stop by there. Peeta and I sit on the back porch swing, me sprawled over his lap, while Gloria chats with Haymitch about how she got to draw a picture at the justice building and ice cream flavors.

"My favorite is butter pecan," Haymitch tells our little girl. "What's yours?"

"Bubblegum is pretty, but mint tastes the best," she says.

"Mint?" Haymitch says. "Somehow it doesn't surprise me that an Everdeen's child would choose mint."

She stares at him, unaware of the meaning of his joke.

Haymitch clears his throat and tries again. "So, your Daddy said you drew a picture on the Justice Building?" He teases.

"No, Hay-May. On paper," Gloria says with a cackle.

Satisfied with her amusement, Haymitch pats her on the head.

And suddenly I know this would have happened anyway. That what I needed to become a parent was not to decide to be one or feel ready to be one, but to simply accept that I was a parent already and let my daughter into my heart. Peeta did that the day we first saw Gloria, but it took me a little longer. Now that I know how, I'll never stop letting myself love Gloria. My daughter is proof that wonderful gifts can come from the most unexpected places and in the most extraordinary ways. Sometimes all you have to do is accept them

"I think I want another one," I blurt out to Peeta

Peeta looks down at me. He'd probably been dozing off, and I immediately feel awkward for disturbing him with something I know will be an important discussion. I'm so bad with words and worse at knowing when to talk.

"What did you say?" he asks sleepily.

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

He won't let it go. It's either lie to him by telling him something other than what I was thinking or tell the truth. I've learned to tell Peeta the truth.

"I want another child," I admit, then pause before adding. "I think." I look away, not wanting to see his reaction.

Peeta grasps my hand.

"You never stop surprising me, Katniss."

"Does that mean you are happy that I feel that way?" I ask tentatively, stealing a glance at his eyes once more. "I mean, we both had siblings. I want that for Gloria, and I'm not afraid of being a mother anymore. We could love another one and take care of him."

Peeta rubs his thumb against the side of my hand slowly.

He lowers his voice to a whisper, "you know I want another one. We should talk about it some more, but yes. Hearing you say that makes me very happy."

I feel his other hand on my cheek, then behind my head tilting it back as he leans down.

"I love you," he says once our eyes meet. He kisses me gently for just a moment before we hear a small voice say, "Ewwww, yuck!"

Pulling away from Peeta I turn to find Gloria watching us from the yard, Haymitch at her side carrying food for the geese.

"I know, I know," Haymitch tells her sympathetically. "They are disgustingly happy sometimes."


End file.
